The Spaces Between
by TheProudSinner
Summary: Collection of scenes presenting off screen fall-out of Kurt & Karofsky after THE kiss in "Never Been Kissed." Adheres closely to cannon of the show.
1. Texts and Subtext

_Can u meet me after school today? Something happened 2 me this afternoon & I REALLY need 2 talk 2 someone about it._

Kurt sent the text immediately after retrieving his phone from the hallway, where it had been abandoned shortly before his entire world had been violently upended on its axis. However, as soon as Kurt pressed the **Send** button, he was suddenly at a loss once again.

He didn't know where to go or what to do with himself. His entire universe had just come crashing down around him and he had no idea where to even begin picking up the pieces, let alone how he could go about putting them back into some semblance of order. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not stop Karofsky from having kissed him.

The memory of it kept running through Kurt's mind, like a film reel on an endless repeat loop. He could not stop reliving that horrifying moment when the other boy had pressed their two lips together. He had been so utterly, utterly shocked by it he had not been able to retain the presence of mind to stop it, or to pull away. Well, not the first time, at any rate.

The second time, thankfully, disgust and horror had taken over and he had managed to rebuke the jock's domineering advances. As he cowered by the end of the lockers, Kurt had been too scared and shocked to really think about how the other boy must have been feeling. All his mental energy had been absorbed in simply making sure the closeted football player was not going to punch him or kiss him, again.

But now that those threats were, for the moment, alleviated, Kurt began to see the scene in a somewhat different light. That look on Karofsky's face, after Kurt had pushed him away…it was agony, pure and unadulterated. There was no other word for it. And that noise he had made…it was like a wounded, trapped animal. It evoked within Kurt a strange mixture of repulsion and sympathy.

His head was swimming. He actually felt physically unbalanced. As he paused and closed his eyes to take a few deep, calming breaths, Kurt heard the noise around which his entire being had temporarily consolidated itself. He had a new text message.

Opening his eyes, Kurt swiftly brought the phone level with his face and read his new message: _Sure, I'd love 2 meet up again. On my way 2 my car now. How bout I pick u up? Where r u?_

Kurt pressed the respond button and hurriedly typed: _I'm still at my school. Can u meet me in parking lot?_

He jammed the send button and this time simply kept his eyes affixed to the phone until the screen flashed the **New Text** graphic again.

_Sure. Be there in 10 min._


	2. Terms of InQueerment

Dave was hyperventilating as he rushed madly down the hallway towards the large double doors that led to the parking lot. He needed to get as far away from school as fast as he possibly could, _NOW!_ He plowed down the wide front sidewalk of the campus and through the long, neat rows of cars in the parking lot towards his truck, praying he would not run into any of his friends along the way. He could not handle talking to anyone right now.

Reaching his usual space, Dave jammed his right hand into his pocket and removed his key ring. His hands were shaking violently as he tried to push his car-key into the driver side door lock, without much success. Finally he managed. Unlocking the cabin, he threw himself inside and, ignoring his seat belt, shoved his key directly into the ignition. With his foot pushing forcefully down on the break, Dave was about to turn the key when he paused momentarily and took a few deep breathes.

He retained just enough sense at that moment to realize he was in no state to drive. Taking his hand slowly off the ignition, Dave let his arms hang limply by his sides for a moment before slamming them both in unison on the edge of his steering wheel angrily. He was about to do something he had not done in a very long time: he was going to cry.

Although Dave had not been this upset about anything in years, it was amazing how familiar the feeling of it still was. His nose tingled, and he felt his throat tighten involuntarily. His eyesight became blurry and the tears stung a bit as they leaked out, down along his cheeks. Dave could not tell whether they were tears of anger, or fear, or sadness. He was feeling all three things with such intensity at the moment, it was difficult to distinguishing them from one another. However, if he had to take a guess, he would have said it was primarily anger, anger aimed almost solely at himself.

How could he have let this happen? How could he have been so utterly stupid? A part of him was still half convinced that it had not, in fact, happened at all and that it had just been a terrible nightmare. A part of him was still in complete denial about it, about the fact that he really had kissed Kurt and now Kurt knew his deep, dark secret. A part of his brain just did not seem capable of even comprehending the situation, and that part seemed thoroughly numb to it all. The rest of him was in pure panic.

Dave felt cornered on all sides, no hope of escape. He was thoroughly trapped. Kurt now knew and Kurt _would_ tell, Dave was sure of it. The other boy hated him; why wouldn't he jump at the chance to retaliate with such splendid completeness? In a moment of weakness Dave had handed Kurt the capacity to seek revenge for every horrible thing he had ever done to the other boy. And why shouldn't the other boy take it? Dave had certainly earned it. A fact which was causing him no small amount of remorse at this very moment.

There was a word for this, Dave knew, though he could not quite get his brain to dredge it up. A word for when you get exactly what is coming to you. It was Chinese or Indian, or something. KARMA! That was it – Karma.

This was the epitome of Karma, and Dave was going to get what was coming to him, of that he was certain. The shit was about to hit the fan and his life was about to become as miserable as he had made Kurt's life. Oh, why had he been such an idiot? Why had he not just left the other boy alone? Then none of this would be happening. And for the first time in his life, Dave truly understood what it meant to regret something, to want to take it back so badly that you feel like you would give anything, including a limb, to go back in time and undo what you did. For the first time in his life, Dave fully appreciated the impenetrability of the past, the desire to access that which could _not_ be touched. For the first time in his life, he knew the real meaning of the words '_If Only_…'

Yet strangely, he became aware, as his angered sobs eventually subsided, nothing in him regretted the actual kiss, itself, the thing which had catalyzed all this regret. No part of his mind wanted to take back _that_ act, un-ring that bell. Dave's desires to rewrite the past were thoroughly tied to the incidences where he had hurt Kurt, the times when he had done the things that would make Kurt _want_ to use the kiss against him. Those were the things he truly regretted, he was stunned to realize. Absolutely nothing in him wanted to give up that kiss, even assuming such a giving-up was possible.

And that was the moment, the very first moment, in which Dave was willing to consciously concede that he might actually be gay. Although a part of him still found that label utterly repugnant, he was self-aware enough to acknowledge that this was the first instance in which it also felt, in any way, accurate, as applied to him. Dave may have experienced plenty of sexual desire for men in the past, but – before this moment – he truly, honestly had never felt _gay_.

Before now, that word had always just seemed so…_wrong_ when applied to him, so disingenuous. And because of that, he had never quite managed to make it stick, make it attach; the word just would not hold him. In fact, it had often felt to Dave as if the word itself had been actively rejecting _him_, denying _him_, deliberately refusing _him_ entry to what it encompassed.

Now, however, for the very first time in his life, although the word still felt deeply uncomfortable to Dave, it also _did_ feel appropriate, genuine…fitting. For the first time in his life, Dave felt like that word truly did, in some way, say something about him. Thinking on his total incapacity to regret his kiss with Kurt, Dave suddenly felt as if the word GAY did actually apply to him, to his experience – of life, the world, and the things he was feeling. That word encompassed him, now, for the very first time, ever. For the first time ever, the word _fit_.

And he belonged to it. Which was utterly terrifying. Indeed, a part of his mind was still attempting to repudiate this realization, to simply refuse it. But Dave could feel that resistance waning; his denial was rapidly crumbling. Admittedly it would still be long time before he could say out loud that he was gay. It would be an even longer time before he could say it out loud to another person. But in his own head, the barriers he had erected against it appeared to be swiftly dismantling themselves.

Dave may not have liked the truth. In fact, for the most part, he still thoroughly reviled it. But for the first time in his life, he felt capable of acknowledge what the truth was, if only to himself. The locus of his fear no longer hovered over the internal recognition that truth. It had shifted. Now his fear hovered mainly over the prospect that other people would find out.

Tomorrow Kurt would tell the whole school Dave's secret, and Dave was still light years away from being able to publicly own it. He was going to have to be prepared to deny it, believably, with utter conviction. His friends would believe him, Dave knew, if only because they would have hated the thought of him being one of those people they so often degraded. Some of Kurt's friends in that Glee club might believe _him_, but Dave had way more credibility than Kurt and that group of rejects, and a few of them believing it did not have the potential to do that much damage.

As long as most of the school still believed him, Dave would be alright. And given how publicly he had harassed Kurt in the past it would not be unthinkable that Kurt would try to retaliate by spreading lies about him. Granted they weren't lies, but the rest of the school did not need to know that. Dave was going to be alright. All he needed to do was pull himself together before tomorrow, go to school in the morning and feign complete obliviousness. He could do that. It was all going to be okay.


	3. Confessions part 1

Kurt stood in the nearly empty parking lot in front of the school, underneath a small magnolia tree. He felt very anxious and could not stop himself from fidgeting with his bag, compulsively checking his phone and looking around for both Blaine's car and Karofsky's.

Soon enough, however, he let out a huge sigh of relief as he recognized his new friend in the driver's seat of an approaching forest green Mazda Protégé. Kurt smiled and jogged toward the car as it swung around to approach him. He reached for the handle on the passenger's seat side, opened the door quickly, and slid himself in with all the speed and grace he could muster, swiftly shutting the door behind him.

As soon as felt the door click shut, Kurt experienced a profound deluge of relief. Being out in the open on school grounds had made him feel very exposed. For the first time since Karofsky had kissed him, he felt grounded and safe again.

Blaine watched patiently as Kurt set his stuff down and put his seat belt on, waiting until the other boy seemed comfortably situated before asking, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so, for the minute," Kurt responded, sighing as he did so.

"So where are we off to?" Blaine asked, clearly trying to be light-hearted.

"I dunno. Just anywhere far away from here."

"Okay," Blaine responded, putting the car into **Drive** with precision.

Kurt watched out the passenger window as the school grounds went whizzing by. Eyes glazed over, the scenery rolled past him without him really taking in any of it. He had no idea where they were going and in that moment, he could not possibly have brought himself to care.

However, his curiosity became piqued as, about 10 minutes later, he realized they were driving into what looked like an empty parking structure.

"Where are we?" Kurt asked, as darkness enveloped the car and his companion became shadowed in the dim light.

"A place I sometimes go when I want to be alone."

Kurt briefly considered asking for a more concrete answer, but quickly decided he did not care enough to bother. They were alone and they definitely were not going to be disturbed. At the moment, that was all he really _did_ care about.

Kurt waited as Blaine drove up one level and pulled his car into the space right up against the far wall. He put the car in **Park**, turned off the ignition and unbuckled his seat belt, turning slightly in his seat to angle himself toward Kurt. Kurt followed his lead and unbuckled his seat belt as well, but remained facing fully forward. For some reason he felt telling his story would be easier if he was not looking directly into Blaine's piercing green eyes.

"So, you wanna tell me what happened?" Blaine asked delicately, breaking the tense silence.

Kurt looked down at his hands, which he was nervously wringing in his lap.

"You remember that boy I told you about, the one who's been harassing me?"

Kurt quickly glanced at his companion to ascertain confirmation. Blaine nodded, looking painfully sympathetic and Kurt quickly returned to staring at his hands.

"Well today he…kissed me."

His voice broke on the word 'kissed'; it had been an immense effort to force the word out of his mouth. Silence swelled briefly in the confines of the car. Kurt glanced over at Blaine once again and saw his eyebrows considerably raised on his forehead

"Wow," the other boy intoned.

"Yeah," was all Kurt could think to say.

"How did it happen, if you don't mind me asking?"

Kurt smiled an ironic smile, then, and shook his head slightly, a small snort of bitter laughter issuing from his nose.

"I was walking down the hallway at school and he pushed me against the lockers, just like he always does. But rather than just letting it be, like I normally would have done, I took your advice and confronted him."

Kurt paused, trying to collect his thoughts and organize them into an intelligible story.

"When he pushed me I ran after him, into the gym locker rooms. I remember I shouted at him: 'What is your problem?' I don't remember exactly what we said after that. I just remember we kept yelling at each other. I _do_ remember he threatened to beat me up, but I just kept shouting at him, right up in his face. And then he reached out and grabbed my head and kissed me."

Kurt felt like the story was pouring out of him now, as if the narrative was escaping by sheer force of inertia.

"I was so shocked I didn't stop him. I couldn't. I just couldn't believe that it was real. It went on for about 5 seconds. Then he pulled away and looked at me. He tried to kiss me again, after that, but that time I pushed him away. I was terrified he was going to beat me up after that. But all he did was slam his hands against the lockers and run away."

"Jesus," Blaine said, his tone appropriately heavy.

"So yeah," Kurt said in a resigned, burdened voice. "That was my day."

Blaine chuckled sympathetically and reached out his right hand to rub Kurt's left arm in a gesture of comfort. Kurt turned his head and smiled at the other boy, immensely grateful that he had someone he could tell this to, even if there was nothing the Blaine could actually do about it.


	4. Freud & the Reaction Formation

Silence enveloped the car once again, and both boys seemed lost in their own respective thoughts. After about a minute, Blaine broke their reverie.

"Freud had a term for this, you know," Blaine said to Kurt, in a slightly academic tone.

"He had a term for when a closeted football player molests you?" Kurt queried skeptically, but with a blatant dose of irony.

The question had the intended effect. Blaine laughed.

"No, he had a word that explains why this boy – what's his name again?"

"Dave Karofsky."

"Why he's been acting the way he's been acting toward you."

Kurt was curious in spite of himself. Blaine launched into an explanation.

"Freud called it 'Reaction Formation.'" Blaine made little quote signs in the air as he said the words. "It's a defense mechanism people use when they have feelings about someone or something that they're ashamed of. In order to deal with that shame, they act precisely opposite to the way they actually feel, as a means of hiding those feelings."

Blaine pause for a brief moment then continued.

"Clearly this kid Karofsky is attracted to you. And – no surprise – he's deeply ashamed of that. So he's been dealing with that shame by harassing and beating up on you, essentially. It's how he hides his true feelings towards you."

Kurt's stomach churned uncomfortably. Blaine's explanation brought into sharp relief the fundamental emotional dilemma that this traumatizing event had erected for him. Before Karofsky had kissed him, it had been easy for Kurt to simply hate him, unequivocally. When Kurt had been able to imagine that Karofsky's harassment was the product of simple bigotry and ignorance, it had been easy to look down on and dismiss the other boy as being merely stupid. Their relationship to each other may have been awful, back then, but at least it had been simple. Now the complexity of it almost defied words. Kurt wanted to make an attempt, however.

"That's exactly what makes all of this so screwed up," Kurt said to Blaine. "I mean, before the kiss I thought he just hated me, pure and simple. And so it was easy for me to just hate him back, pure and simple. But _now…_now I find out that he's been beating up on me not because he hates me but because he _likes_ me? I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that!"

Kurt paused as his frazzled thoughts sifted slowly through his brain.

"I mean I don't think I should just let him go on harassing me. But I also don't think I can use this against him, to make him stop. Outting him would be cruel beyond anything he's ever done to me and I…I would just feel wrong, using his sexuality against him like that. I mean I know what it feels like to have your sexuality used by other people to hurt you and I can't do that to him. I just, I can't."

"And I don't think you should," Blaine said, supportively.

"So what should I do?" Kurt asked, desperately.

"Well," Blaine said, after a moment's consideration, "according to Freud there is only one way to resolve a reaction formation: get the person to face up to and deal with their real feelings. Karofsky is probably not going to stop harassing you until he comes to terms with his sexuality and his attraction to you. He needs to acknowledge those feelings and let go of his shame about them before he can stop attacking you as a way of defending against them."

"Great," Kurt said. "I'm more likely to see the second coming of Jesus than I am to see Karofsky come out of the closet."

"Maybe," Blaine conceded, unfazed, "but I think we should still try."

Although the other boy's suggestion scared Kurt a bit, his use of the word "we" made Kurt feel fortified. Having this new ally by his side made Kurt feel like things he couldn't have imagined previously were possible, might just be possible after all.

"How?"

"Well, I think we should try to talk to him. Calmly. Explain to him that we do understand what he's going through and just try to be as sympathetic and non-threatening as possible. I mean the fact that he kissed you might actually be a good sign, weirdly enough. It means that at least some part of him is ready to be open about this. Some part of him does want to be honest about how he really feels."

"It's a bit off topic, but has anyone ever told you you should consider a career as a professional psychiatrist?"

Blaine smiled. "No, but I'll be sure to take it under advisement."


	5. Confessions part 2

"Thank you…for all of this. For listening to me and helping me. I really don't know what I would have done today if I hadn't had you to talk to about it."

Kurt was on the verge of crying and he felt Blaine's hand grasp his shoulder firmly. He looked into the other boy's face and Blaine smiled at him.

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay," he said soothingly.

Kurt sniffed emphatically and nodded in silence.

"There's one more thing I feel like I should say," Kurt continued after a moment. "I didn't say anything about it before because I was ashamed…but after all this, I think I'll take my chances being honest."

"What is it?" Blaine asked, in his perfect, professional-therapist voice.

Kurt had to take a deep breath this time and really get himself under control before he could let this one out of the bag.

"Much as I wish this wasn't so, there's a part of me that was, and still is, I guess, flattered by what Karofsky did." Kurt swallowed hard and looked unrelentingly at his hands, unable to face Blaine in light of this confession. "As horrible as he's been to me and as much as I _do_ hate him for that, knowing how he really feels about me…it makes me feel _good_. Which I hate. I mean, it's totally pathetic. I don't want to find those feelings that he has for me appealing, but I kinda do. And I guess I don't know what to do with _that_ either," Kurt concluded, hanging his head in defeat.

"Hey," Blaine said almost immediately. "Look at me." He waited until Kurt lifted his head and was staring right into his eyes before continuing.

"Stop being so hard on yourself," Blaine then commanded, over-exaggerating every word so Kurt would actually take it to heart. "This is an incredibly difficult and complicated situation. There are all kinds of really complex emotions that are getting bandied about right now, on your part and on his part. That's to be expected. Stop thinking that everything you are feeling is going to be perfectly logical or that it's going to be easy figuring any of this out. Because it's just not."

Kurt nodded, acknowledging that he understood what Blaine was saying. But as much as what the other boy was saying _did_ make sense, Kurt was not satisfied to just let it be, either.

"I mean, when I think about it I also wonder, did he kiss me because he likes me, personally, or did he kiss me just because he likes guys and I am the only guy he knows who might be into that? I feel like I shouldn't care either way but I do. I want to know – was it just about sex or was it about me, too? I mean, if it was just about sex then I might be able to let this go fairly easily. But if he actually likes me…well, that's a whole different rack of shoes."

Blaine laughed good-naturedly at the modified expression and Kurt, despite his current angst, could not help but smile too.

"And there's also the part of me that just feels sorry for him. I mean, all this time he's been victimizing me, hurting me, and here I am feeling sorry for him. Am I just a complete masochist with no good sense of self preservation?"

"No, I don't think so. Masochists _enjoy_ being hurt. I don't think you enjoy being hurt or victimized by him. I think you simply understand where it's coming from, now, and knowing that _does_ mitigate a lot of the pain. You understand he's not doing this because he actually hates you or truly wishes you harm. He's doing all this because he hates himself, and is taking it out on you. Which doesn't make the abuse in any way okay, but I do think it changes how you should look at it and how you should deal with it. And being sympathetic is appropriate."

"Yeah, part of me thinks that. But then part of me thinks that I'm just romanticizing my own victimization, like those girls who let their boyfriends beat up on them repeatedly and just constantly make excuses for them. I think, why am I defending my abuser? Who cares _why_ he's doing what he's doing? I should have enough self-esteem to just say fuck him."

"Well, I agree that would probably be easier, both emotionally and logistically. But I also think that erases the bigger picture here."

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked.

"Saying 'fuck you' to Karofsky may stop him from bullying you. But what about the next guy who comes along? Simply avoiding Karofsky and his abuse won't fix the fundamental problem; it will just make you, in particular, no longer a victim of it. This boy is lashing out because inside he's hurting. And until someone acknowledges that pain, and helps him deal with it in a healthy way, he's going to continue mistreating people, if not you then somebody else."

Kurt nodded his acknowledgment, his face grave. Blaine continued.

"Ending the abuse requires that someone treat his illness at its source, rather than getting bogged down by all the symptoms. Again, I'm not saying you should just let him abuse you, but what I am saying is that you should try to deal with the abuse in a way that might actually fix the problem. The problem being Karofsky's own _self_-hatred. I know it seems counter-intuitive to feel sympathy for someone who has so often hurt you, but sympathy expressed in the right way might be the only thing that ultimately stops him from hurting you."

"That makes sense," Kurt said. He felt profoundly relieved by Blaine's words because he genuinely did want to help Karofsky – both for Karofsky's sake and for his own – but he also did not want to do so at the expense of his own dignity and self-worth. He had given up too much of both those things to Karofsky as it was.


	6. Variation on the Theme of the Closet

"I have to say," Kurt continued, his tone lighter, having dealt with the most distressing of his emotional reactions to this situation, "I am also feeling just a little bit stupid right now. I feel like I should have seen this coming, somehow…like, I should have _known_."

"Well, that's the funny thing about this idea that all gay people are the same, that we're all a 'type'. People think if you_ look_ gay then_, _ipso facto, you must _be_ gay and if you don't look gay, well then, ipso facto, you must be straight. Like it's all just as simple as that!" Blaine tone was heavy with mockery. After a moment, he continued in earnest, "It's patently ridiculous of course, as this episode with your football player shows all too clearly, but people still buy into it."

Kurt could not help but smile at Blaine's causal use of Latin, but he chose not to remark on it. Instead he replied, "Well, believe me, I certainly won't be making that mistake again."

The two boys grinned knowingly at each other, the atmosphere in the car lightening considerably as they did so.

"Ironically," Blaine continued, "I think this might actually_ be_ one of the biggest problems here. I mean it's hard enough for guys like you and me to come out, even when most of the world already assumes we're gay. For guys like him, it's gotta be a hundred times worse. I mean, I've been treated as if I were gay for most of my life, been picked on and harassed for it…even before I 'officially' came out. And I'm sure it was probably the same for you."

Kurt was quick to nod his agreement, and Blaine swiftly continued.

"People like you and me, we don't actually stand to _lose_ a whole lot by coming out, by confirming what everyone around us already suspects. But for people like him, it's different. Because nobody suspects this kid Karofsky, he still gets treated as if he were heterosexual, still gets all the perks and privileges. Understandably, he doesn't want to give that up. I mean, honestly, who would?"

"No one," Kurt confirmed, a bit redundantly. Kurt actually had not given a great deal of thought to _this _particular aspect of the situation until now. But Blaine's insightful analysis had given him a whole new appreciation for the complexities and berth of variations possible for the so-called "closet," how it had the power to affect different people differently.

Kurt used to imagine that coming out was a, more or less, similar thing for all gay people. It now occurred to him that, actually, coming out was probably a much harder thing for some people than for others and that, in point of fact, _he_ had actually gotten off fairly easy, all things considered. Putting himself in Karofsky's shoes for a minute, he tried to imagine what it would be like for him to tell his flamingly homophobic best friend, Azimio, that he was gay. Or his father, who probably had an image of his son as the perfect All-American high school football stud, heterosexuality (arbitrarily) included. Or the football team, or the rest of their classmates, or…

The more Kurt thought about it, the more he could see just how impossible a circumstance this truly was for Karofsky. It was difficult for Kurt to even imagine how lonely the football jock must feel, trying to deal with something like this all on his own, surrounded by people who were unabashedly, flagrantly hostile to his homosexuality. At that thought, something Rachel had said to him a few weeks ago popped into his head. _I know you're lonely, but you're not alone_.

Kurt had not realized until this moment just how right she had been. He may have _felt _profoundly lonely at times, but he never actually had been alone. He had had his loving father and Mercedes, and Mr. Shuester, and really all of the Glee club. He may have had spats with some of them in the past, but deep inside, he had always known they would be there for him, and love him, and support him when things got tough. It was just like Rachel had said, "That's 12 people who love you for being just exactly the way that you are."

Kurt had 12 people. And that wasn't even including his father, or the wonderful new friend currently seated right beside him. Dave Karofsky probably did not have even have _1 _person. The other boy likely did not have one single person in the whole wide world who knew the truth about him and loved him just the same. And that realization put things into glaring perspective for Kurt.

Kurt had often felt in his day-to-day life that the world was a battlefield, and it was just him pitted against absolutely everybody else. But that was not true, and it never had been. Admittedly the people on his side were painfully outnumbered by the everybody else. But at least he _had_ people on his side. Seeing things from Dave's perspective he suddenly understood what it would be like to _really_ have no one, to have to face down all your world's demons _mano a mano_.

"We have to help him," Kurt said. There was no other choice, he concluded.

"I think so, too," Blaine concurred.


	7. The Question

"What do we do?" Kurt asked.

"Well, like I said before, I think we just have to try to talk to him about this as calmly as possible."

"I don't know. I mean, you should have seen the look on his face after I pushed him away in the locker room. He was scared. I wouldn't be surprised if, now, he tried to just pretend like the whole thing never happened at all."

"I think that's a chance we'll just have to take. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

"He could beat us up," Kurt said, his tone deadly serious.

"Well, that's something that we will have to be very careful about. We'll probably have to talk to him somewhere out in the open, where other people can at least see us."

"Do you think he'll actually talk to us about something like this when there are other people around?"

Blaine paused to truly consider that question. Finally he responded.

"It makes it less likely, but we have to weigh that against the danger of talking to him alone and getting our asses kicked. Given the two options, I think we have to go with the one that presents less risk to us."

"I very much concur," Kurt replied, feeling relieved. "So when do you think we should stage this intervention?"

"Soon. The sooner, the better I'd say. The more time goes by, the more time he'll have to sink back into his denial. How about tomorrow, during your lunch period?"

"That's fine by me but won't it be hard for you, driving between your school and mine during your lunch break?"

"Don't worry about it, I'll be fine. I'll break the speed limit if I have to."

"Never would have pegged you for a rule breaker."

"Oh, don't let the pristine school boy uniform fool you. I'm a regular rock-n-roll rebel."

"I'm sure," Kurt responded, smiling.

Silence descended as the boys started to reconsider the topic at hand.

"I still have no idea what I could possibly say to him, after this," Kurt confessed after a moment, solemnly.

"Why don't you let me handle that?"

"Are you sure? I feel like all I've done since I met you is dump all my problems on you. Are you really sure you want to take this one on, too?"

"I think I can help. And I want to help."

"You really are a saint, aren't you?"

"Yup. You've found me out."

There was another pause, this one lasting bit longer than previous one.

"There's no way this is going to work," Kurt said at last, finally voicing the thought he had been trying to hold back.

"Honestly, probably not," Blaine conceded. "But I don't think we stand to lose a whole lot by trying. And if, by some miracle, we do actually get through to him, your life stands to get a whole lot better."

"Yeah, I guess that true," Kurt replied, still sounding uneasy.

"What?" Blaine asked, after a brief pause.

"Huh?" Kurt replied, confused.

"Something's still bugging you. What is it?"

Kurt was not used to being around someone who was so uncannily perceptive about his emotional states. Usually he had to fight to make his pain visible to others. And while, in some ways, it felt like a nice change to have another person so attuned to his feelings of distress, it was also a bit unnerving. It was certainly going to take some getting used to, that was for sure.

"I was just thinking about what I would do if, by some miracle, this does work."

Blaine looked confused for a moment. Then it seemed to hit him.

"Oh you mean, how you would deal with the _you-and-him_ question."

"Yes…it's like I said before. I don't have any idea whether that kiss was just a cry for help, or if the guy _actually_ has feelings for me. And what if he does? What am I supposed to do?"

"That's a very good question," Blaine said, his tone thoroughly non-committal.

"What, you've finally run out of a sage advice?" Kurt asked.

"I think you may have used up my stock for week," Blaine replied, a smile in his voice.

"Well that's unfortunate."

"Let me ask you something," Blaine said a bit delicately, after a moment. "_Could_ you have feelings for this kid?"

Nervous panic started pervading Kurt's whole body in response to Blaine's question. This was the one query he'd been trying to avoid confronting, almost since the kiss had first occurred. Yet it kept coming up, like a persistent weed, destined to ruin any psychic peace he might manage to eke out amidst this horrible mess. Leave to his new friend to find this one sore spot so quickly.

"I really don't know," Kurt finally exclaimed in confused frustration. "I mean there's a part of me, a BIG part of me, that is just totally horrified by the idea."

"But –" Blaine prompted.

"But, there is also a tiny, crazy part of me that can somehow see it. Which is insane," Kurt amended after a moment. "I mean I must be actually certifiable to be thinking this kind of nonsense. It's just so weird and confusing and, god, why did he do this to me?"

As Kurt said this he stamped his foot violently against the floor of Blaine's car and then dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face compulsively.

"Hey, what did I tell you before? Stop being so hard on yourself. Look," Blaine said, after a brief pause, "I know we still don't know each other all that well but I think I have a fairly good idea what kind of person you are. You're the sort of person who knows he can rock a show-stopping solo as good as Barbara Streisand and look better in an Armani suit than Armani himself. But you're also _not_ the sort of person who believes that someone might actually love him, that someone might actually want to be with him. Discovering the fact that somebody does, perhaps, want to be with you – that's understandably very seductive to someone like you." Blaine halted briefly, and then added, "And, by the way, being drawn in by that doesn't make you in any way abnormal; if anything, it makes you profoundly _normal_. It's thoroughly _ordinary_ to want to know that somebody wants you."

Kurt nodded into his lap, still looking defeated.

"And remember, stop trying to think you're going to sort all this out, emotionally, in one afternoon. You're not. It's complicated. And it's probably going to continue being complicated for quite some time. I think you're just going to need to make your peace with being a little bit conflicted about everything from here on out."

"Yeah, you're right, of course…as always."

"Now, why don't I take you home? Both our parents are going to be wondering where we are pretty soon."


	8. Rejection

Dave had managed to put on a good show for his family. He had come home at the same time he always did, done his homework, played a little X-Box, eaten his dinner in relative silence as his parents discussed their days at work. No one seemed to have any inkling of the magnitude of angst which had been swirling through his brain the whole time.

For the past few hours he had been vacillating between barely controlled panic and a rather Zen state of denial, interspersed with moments in which memories of the actual event manage to dredge themselves up. The whole scene had occurred so quickly, it felt to Dave as if he could barely get a hold on what exactly _had_ happened between himself and Kurt in that locker room. Lying on his bed in the dark, Dave could not stop himself from trying to piece the scene back together, if only to understand how he could have been provoked to let his guard down so thoroughly.

He remembered walking down the hall and seeing the other boy standing right in the middle of it, holding his phone and looking ridiculously happy about something. _God, that had irked him!_ Even now, the thought of it made his stomach clench slightly. The other boy had no right to be so happy when he, himself, was so utterly miserable. So he had smacked the phone out of Kurt's hand and shoved him against the lockers, just to remind him where he stood in the scheme of things.

And then he had walked away, momentarily satisfied that the other boy was once again as unhappy about life as he was, never imagining that Kurt would suddenly decide to break their established routine and actually confront him. He had subsequently gone to remove some stuff from his gym locker when Hummel had come bursting dramatically through door, shouting for his attention.

At first Dave had not thought much of it. He had assumed that this was another one of those moments when Kurt temporarily grew a back bone only to shrink away once again in the face of a real threat of harm. But as soon as the other boy had gotten up in his face, Dave had realized that something about this time was different. The kid had had a fury in his eyes that Dave had never seen there before, and for the first time it had seemed to him as if they were on a level playing field. For the first time, Dave felt like he was facing down an equal, and that had immediately caused him to take the situation more seriously.

He remembered that Kurt had even asked him "What are you so scared of?," unexpectedly turning the tables on Dave, casting _him_ in the role of the coward. Normally he would have laughed off the idea of being scared of the smaller, effeminate boy, but because he had been so taken by surprise at Kurt's newfound courage, his mind had not seemed capable of executing the mocking derision which typically came so easily. So he had been forced to simply respond honestly, confessing that he was, indeed, sacred of the other boy making a sexual spectacle out of him.

However as Dave had heard the words coming out of his mouth, he had not been able to stop himself from vividly picturing the very thing he professed such antipathy for – "you sneaking in here to peek at my junk" – and becoming subsequently aroused by it. To be sure, he had, in fact, been terrified of the thought of Kurt doing that, but not because it grossed him out. Because it turned him on.

Kurt had turned on the sarcasm then, heavily mocking Dave for suggesting that "all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you." And then Kurt had said the thing that Dave now recognized as his tipping point, the moment when he had lost control and become vulnerable to his desires. Kurt had said "Guess what ham-hock, you're not my type."

That had felt like a blow directly to the stomach. Dave had actually felt physically winded by it. And it had hurt, it had hurt in a way that Dave had not previously known he was capable of hurting. Over the past year or so, he had always been the one rejecting Kurt, had always been the one mocking him and reviling him, making _him_ feel unwanted. With that one brief sentence, Kurt had completely inverted that dynamic, had thoroughly seized that power from him. Dave had no longer been the one in a position to accept or reject Kurt; Kurt had suddenly become the one in a position to accept or reject Dave. And he had adamantly rejected him.

So like an idiot, Dave had invited further exposition.

"Is that right?" he had asked. Idiot.

"Yeah, I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and are going to be bald by the time they're thirty!"

Looking back on that moment, Dave found himself wondering if Kurt had actually meant any of those things he had said or if he had just said them for the sake of being mean, because he was pissed off. A part of him felt profoundly silly lying in bed worrying about something like that – particularly in light of the hell he was liable to face tomorrow morning – but there was just no denying that he did care. He cared. He had cared even then.

Which was why that had been the moment he had really started threatening Kurt. He had needed Kurt to stop talking about how ugly he was. He had needed Kurt to stop rejecting him so virulently, he had need Kurt to just _stop_.

But the kid seemed to have grown a suicidal streak and had ended up just egging him on.

"You gonna hit me?" he had asked, without waiting for a reply. "Do it!" he had dared.

Dave had not actually wanted to beat Kurt up. In fact, he had known that if he started a genuine physical altercation with the kid he was actually in serious danger of becoming blatantly aroused by it. All that tugging and pulling, the sweating and heaving, all that skin to skin contact. It was certainly something he had fantasized about enough. Him pushing Kurt against the lockers, Kurt trying to push back. Dave pinning him there, both of Kurt's wrists captured in Dave's grip, their hands held above their heads, their chests heaving against one another's. Kurt breathing heavily through that pretty pink mouth of his, which would be open and inviting…

Dave began to feel the familiar rush of blood down to his abdomen and forced himself to remember what had really happened next in the locker room. Kurt had said something like, "Hitting me won't change who I am. You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I could punch the ignoramus out of you!"

By that point Dave had been feeling thoroughly out of control. The other boy just kept harping on him without remittance and there did not seem to be anything Dave could say or do to make the kid leave him alone. Threats had not worked, pleading did not work Dave soon discovered, as he rather pathetically intoned, "Get out of my face."

But as Kurt had continued shouting at him, all the other boy did was get even closer. In fact, from that point on, Dave quite literally had no idea what it was that Kurt had said to him. By then he had completely lost the capacity to listen and mentally process words. The impassioned closeness of the other boy, his scent, his perfectly smooth creamy skin, it had felt like a targeted assault on his libido and in that moment his body had thoroughly usurped his brain and done the thing it had been begging to do for almost a year now.

His arms had reached out and grabbed Kurt's head, and Dave had kissed him. And although his mind had, in that moment, felt profoundly disconnected from his body, Dave could still remember the sensations vividly. The other boy's lips had been every bit as soft as he had imagined. And although it may have been purely the result of shock, Kurt had opened his mouth and allowed Dave access. Dave had tasted the inside of the other boy's mouth briefly and it had made him want so much more.

He had pulled away then, to see if Kurt would let him keep going, really let him inside. The other boy's expression had been thoroughly unhelpful. He had not looked disgusted or angry, as Dave had feared he might. He had not even looked frightened, really. Dave had seen only one emotion there: pure shock. He had waited, then, for what felt like an eternity for Kurt to say or do something, indicate what he wanted. But the boy had not done anything, had not yelled at him, had not run away. He had just stood there looking dumbfounded, frozen like a statue.

Thinking Kurt would, for sure, instantly reject him, Dave had assumed that Kurt's acquiescence to the kiss and his subsequent lack of any negative response provided fair grounds to keep going. So he had tried to continue. That was when the other boy finally pushed him away, looking angry for the first time since the kiss and cowering by end of the lockers in fear.

The disappointment Dave had felt then, as he had taken in Kurt's horrified face, had been impossible to even describe. For one glorious moment he thought he was finally going to get some release, was finally going to get some of what he had been fantasizing about for months on end. He had wanted it so badly, for so long, and for one brief shining moment he had thought he was going to have it…only to have it cruelly revoked not a moment later.

Honestly, the rejection would not have hurt so badly if he had not been allowed to kiss Kurt that first time. If Kurt had just shoved him away to begin with, Dave probably would have been quite angry, but he would not have been in pain. It would have been infuriating, but it would not have hurt. Dave was used to being denied what he wanted and he had learned how to live with that. What he had not been prepared for was the feeling of getting what he wanted, having it, and then experiencing the subsequent agony of losing it. Losing something you loved, he had discovered in that moment, was infinitely more painful than being denied something you wanted.

But as Dave lay awake in bed, continuing to churn the moment over and over in his mind, he _still _could not bring himself to regret it, even now. He was without a doubt utterly terrified as to how it was likely to upend his life in the coming days, weeks and months. But at least now he was no longer plagued by the incessant nagging wonder of how it would feel to kiss the other boy. Because he knew.

And even if he could not go on kissing the other boy, he at least had something today that he had not had yesterday, something that _no one_ could take away from him. Dave would not have let them, even if they could. That bell could not be un-rung, and Dave was still glad of that fact. Despite the hell he knew ringing that bell was about rain down on him, Dave found himself falling asleep to the conviction that, whatever was to come tomorrow, it _would_ be worth it.


	9. Scratching the Surface

Dave decided he was not going to stay at school for lunch today. He just could not face going into the cafeteria and sitting through Azimio and the other guys stealing each other's food and calling each other "fag" and "cock-sucker." He no longer had the emotional energy necessary to fake enthusiasm and approval for his friend's antics, not after what had just happened to him on the stairwell.

Kurt and some other kid who looked to be Kurt's boyfriend had tried to stage an intervention with him, in plain view of their classmates. At first Dave had kept it together pretty well, managing to behave toward Kurt the way he normally did, more or less. But as he had initially tried to make his escape, the boy in the prissy school uniform had said the thing Dave had been dreading he would hear all day: "Kurt told me what you did."

Dave had desperately wanted to just run away at that moment, but he knew he could not simply ignore what the kid had said. That would have been basically the same as conceding it was true. He needed to deny it, flat out.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" he had asked, being fairly certain neither of them would actually say it out loud, in front of all those people.

He had tragically miscalculated, however, for Kurt had instantly responded, "You kissed me."

At the time, all Dave had felt in response to Kurt's statement was panic. He did NOT want any of their classmates to overhear, especially given the fact that, judging by his thoroughly ordinary day thus far, Kurt did not seem to have told any of them about the kiss…yet. So Dave had moved on to the statement he had been practicing all day in his head. Yet when it came out, he knew it sounded rehearsed and, frankly, blatantly false.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dave could hear the panic in his own voice as he feigned ignorance and that fact had made him even more nervous about the situation than he already was. He needed to get a lot better at outright lying and denial if he was going to make it through this.

Then the dark-haired kid had started giving him this whole speech about how he and Kurt understood what Dave was going through, and how it was normal to be confused and a whole load of other psycho babble crap. He had not listened to most of it, really. He had been way too baffled by their kindness. Both boys had had these looks on their faces like they desperately wanted to help him, like they honestly felt bad for him. And he really had had no idea how to respond to that.

He had expected accusations, he had expected attempts at public humiliation. He had expected whispered gossip spread around the whole of the school with vindictive glee. What he had been wholly unprepared for was empathy, an attempt to be kind and helpful. It had totally caught him off guard. And honestly, it had scared him.

Of the many scenarios Dave had played out in his head last night, a public intervention staged on his behalf by a kid he had endlessly tormented, had _not_ been among them. And he had had no pre-prepared response, no idea what to do. So naturally, he had fallen back on his default way of dealing with things: threatening people.

He had shoved the private school boy against the fence and made it very clear, he did not want their 'help.' Then came perhaps the most unexpected moment of the whole encounter. Kurt had come to the other boy's rescue and had thrown Dave off of him.

Dave had been amazed, even at the time, by the other boy's surprising strength. In his mind, Dave always imagined Kurt to be so much smaller and weaker than him. Perhaps because the other boy had such a generally feminine appearance and moved with such delicacy, Dave had not before truly appreciated his actual stature. Kurt, in fact, was almost as tall as he was, and although the other boy was not heavy like him, he definitely did not lack for muscle. The kid was much stronger than he looked.

Stranger than Kurt's unexpected strength, however, had been the look on his face after he had thrown Dave off his boyfriend. Dave, in fact, could not get the image of it out of his head. Kurt had looked so sad, so defeated and disappointed. _Why?_

That was the thing that he could not figure out. Why did those two boys seem to want to help him? And why had Kurt looked so utterly deflated when he had rejected their help? None of it made any sense. It _would_ have made sense for Kurt to try and hurt Dave with this secret, or to just pretend like the whole thing had never happened.

But for Kurt to see it as a call for help and actually respond with compassion was just totally beyond Dave's ability to comprehend. And, in some ways, it actually scared him _more_ than if Kurt had just come out with the story from the get-go. Dave had been ready to defend himself against malicious rumors and vindictive public accusations. He knew how to prepare for and respond to things of that nature.

However, as of right now, Kurt was not behaving in any way that Dave could have predicted or foreseen, and that in some ways actually made him far more dangerous to Dave than if he had just wanted to be mean. Dave had apparently entirely miscalculated the other boy's real feelings towards him, and he now had no means of predicting how the other boy was liable to behave in the future. Which was utterly terrifying.

Dave did not have any idea what Kurt's next move was. He had no way of predicting when the other boy might ambush him again, or what form that ambush might take. He could not plan for it or do anything to prevent it and that made him feel profoundly vulnerable. Dave had no idea, anymore, where he stood with Kurt, or how Kurt saw him, and that uncertainty felt like a ticking bomb with visible no timer. It could go off at any time; and it might be relatively harmless or it might explode the very foundation of his existence.

And the worst of it had to be just the not knowing, one way or the other. Dave's fear was now no longer predicated on the many things he _could_ imagine Kurt doing to him. _Now_, it was predicated on the many things he _couldn't_ imagine, the whole host of things he _wouldn't_ think of.

The events of that afternoon forced Dave to concede that he actually did not know Kurt, at all. Sure he knew things _about_ Kurt: he was gay, he was in Glee club, he liked fancy clothes. But he did not actually know anything about Kurt as a person, who he _was_ as an individual. Which actually struck him as quite odd, given how obsessed he had been with the boy over the past year.

All this time, he realized, he had been viewing Kurt as not much more than a body, a sort of blank surface that had nothing but gayness imprinted all over it. He was shocked to discover how shocked he was to discover that Kurt actually had a whole individuality that had yet to be scratched beneath the surface. There were obviously things going on underneath that pretty exterior that Dave had never given a second thought to, before now.

However, the events of that afternoon left him with the conclusion that he really had no choice but to scratch that surface. He was going to have to figure out what was going on in the other boy's head, if only to prevent himself from being exposed at the other boy's hands.


	10. First Kisses

"Well that was an unmitigated disaster," Kurt concluded in a dramatic sigh, as he pulled his seatbelt across his body to fasten it at his left hip.

"Oh, come on, it could have been worse," Blaine replied, as he twisted around to look out his rear window while backing out of his parking space.

"How?" Kurt queried, skeptically.

"Well," Blaine continued, as he put the car in **Drive** and spun the wheel in the direction of the exit, "he could have _actually_ punched me."

"Yeah, I suppose," Kurt conceded gloomily.

He was, by turns, both amused and depressed by Blaine's nonchalance in the face of their failure. The other boy seemed totally unfazed by what had just gone down between the two of them and Karofsky in the back stair well. He, on the other hand, was far more disappointed about it than the situation actually warranted.

"Hey, I have a big case of CDs in the back. Why don't you pick out something you want to listen to?"

Blaine was clearly trying to get Kurt to stop feeling sorry for himself, and Kurt knew singing would help. He reached around to the backseat and grabbed the large black case that was lying on the floor. Unzipping it, Kurt flipped through the pages briskly, feeling a detached appreciation for the range of music Blaine seemed to like. He had everything from showtunes, to classic rock to 80's one-hit-wonders. Soon enough he found something that matched his mood: it was a Best of Bernadette Peters collection.

Kurt fed the CD into the designated slot on the dashboard and soon the car was filled with the opening notes of "Not a Day Goes By." Kurt belted out in perfect unison with Bernadette for the next few minutes, until they pulled into the Breadstix parking lot.

Feeling marginally better by this point, Kurt followed Blaine into the restaurant and ordered a Chicken Caesar salad and a Coke. As they waited for their orders to arrive, Kurt chewed slowly on one of their complementary breadsticks, getting lost in his own thoughts as he did so.

"Hey," Blaine eventually said, kicking Kurt gently under the table. "Where are you right now?"

Kurt shook his head vigorously and replied, in all earnestness, "Sorry. I'm just feeling more depressed about this than I should be. I mean, I knew it was never going to work. But I hadn't realized, until Karofsky started threatening you, just how much I had still been hoping against hope that it might. I feel really disappointed. I guess I just wanted it a lot more than I thought I did."

"Yeah, I get that," Blaine replied, as their waitress arrived with lunch. The boys each thanked her and then took a few bites, chewing quickly in the relative silence.

"I'm sorry he stole that kiss from you," Blaine said after a few minutes, his tone surprisingly serious.

Kurt nodded but could not actually think of anything to say.

"You know, not to put a damper on things, but realistically I think _most_ people are disappointed by their first kiss for one reason or other. I'd bet for a lot of people, it's not with the person they really would have liked, or it happens at the wrong time or the wrong place or it just turns out _gross."_

Blaine put extra emphasis on the last word and made a dramatic face, clearly trying to make Kurt laugh. It worked. Kurt could not help but chuckled at his comrades' expression.

"First kisses are one of the things that get so hyped-up and romanticized that, for most people, I think they are probably just a big let-down. And while that might be depressing in itself, I think you should take solace from the fact that you probably haven't_ actually_ been deprived of all that much. Even if your first kiss _had_ been with someone of your choosing, it would still most likely would have been a disappointment in some fashion."

Kurt thought for a moment on Blaine's words and then nodded in resigned agreement.

"Plus, if nothing else, you certainly can't say yours lacked for drama!" Blaine concluded.

Kurt laughed again. Blaine had a way of, if not slaying Kurt's dragons, making them seem smaller, and more harmless. He took a moment to fully appreciate the mitigation of his loss and then tried to explain to his friend why their failure this afternoon had hurt as much as it had.

"You know, I think I just wanted something good to come out of it. I wanted it to have some larger meaning or purpose. Rather than it being just one more secret I have to keep, one more burden I have to carry for somebody else…somebody I don't even particularly like!"

"C'est la vie."

"You speak French _and_ Latin. I should have known."

"Only a little bit."

"And like an idiot, I kept running all these fantasies about it through my head. I just couldn't help thinking, what if he actually did come out? Then I would no longer have to be 'the' gay kid. And people wouldn't be able to make fun of me without making fun of him, too. I mean, right now bullying me is easy; I'm not threatening in the least. But Karofsky – he beats people up on a regular basis. Kids at our school would actually be scared to be homophobic if he came out."

Kurt paused for a moment, reveling in the oh so distant possibilities that appealing scenario presented.

"I just couldn't stop myself from imagining how it might get better for me. And I got carried away with it all." Kurt paused again, for a few seconds, then continued.

"But even when I was trying to be more realistic, I still couldn't help thinking that, at the very least, he _might _be capable of facing up to how he feels in front of other gay people. I honestly had myself believing that he could _maybe_ admit to his sexuality, if only in private, amongst people who already know. Then, if nothing else, perhaps he would have stopped harassing me so relentlessly. Now I'm worried that, not only did we _not_ make things better, we may have actually made them worse. I mean he probably thought I would play along with him and just pretend like it never happened. I don't think he was expecting me to make a project out of him. And now that we've tried to intervene. he's probably even more anxious about this whole thing than he was before…which I somehow don't think is going to make him kinder towards me in the coming weeks."

At that, images of the new horrors Karofsky was likely to inflict on him started flicking through Kurt's imaginative brain. The prospects were grim, there was no getting around it. "This whole thing was a stupid, crazy idea and I have no idea why we even bothered," Kurt burst out in conclusions, feeling impotent and idiotic.

"We wanted to help, remember?" Blaine reminded him earnestly, touching his arm gently across the table.

"Yeah, that was stupid," Kurt responded a bit petulantly.

"It wasn't stupid. It was caring and it was descent. And even if it didn't work today, maybe just knowing he has someone he can confide in will help him get there a little quicker."

"I doubt it," Kurt rebuked cynically.

"Yeah, me too. But you never know."

"We should probably be getting back," Kurt said after a brief pause.

Blaine looked at his watch and his eyes widened.

"Yeah, we definitely need to make a move."

He flagged down the waitress and asked for their bill. Retrieving $30.00 from his wallet, Blaine waited until the squat brunette returned, then stuck the bills into the black folder she handed him without even looking at the tab.

"Keep the change," he said, while flashing the woman a dazzling smile.

"Thanks. You two have a great day," the waitress replied, giving Blaine a genuine smile in return.

As they exited the restaurant Blaine said, "What's done is done. Why don't you wait to see what happens before you start assuming the worst."

He then unlocked his car and slid into the driver's seat. With his hand on the passenger door, Kurt mumbled to himself, "Too late," before opening his door and settling into shotgun.


	11. Secret powers

Dave had spent all day psyching himself up for this. He really did not want to do it; but he had to start somewhere, and this was as good a place as any. At least it was familiar. Walking down the hall he spotted Kurt in his bright yellow sweater, staring dreamily at something inside his locker and Dave knew it was now or never.

Making a beeline for the kid, he used the right side of his body to smash the other boy against the lockers. Dave had actually been so nervous he slammed Kurt harder than usual and ended up knocking him down. He really had not intended to do that, but he could not break character and exhibit any remorse.

Instead he simply stared intently at the object of his harassment, walking backwards several paces to get a good, long look at the other boy's face. He was studying it, taking in every miniscule expression, to try and begin unraveling the mystery of how the other boy really saw him.

Kurt had initially looked outraged, and hurt, which was only to be expected. However, as soon as Kurt had made eye contact with him, any genuine anger that might have been there seemed to instantly dissipate. _How odd_. The other boy had also looked at him quite strangely, as if _he_ was the object of study here, as if _he _were the one to be figured out. It appeared that Kurt found _him_ as incomprehensible as he found Kurt. _Interesting_. Kurt also did exude a certain air of knowing. As he looked into Dave's eyes, Dave could see his secret being circulated through the forefront of Kurt's mind. He could tell Kurt was busy reconstituting this abuse as a function of that secret. That, however, was nothing but predictable.

Dave had also deduced, subsequent to the encounter, that he could probably go on openly harassing Kurt, just as he had always done, and Kurt was not likely to retaliate. The boy's reaction in the hallway strongly suggested he was not likely to be provoked into telling, at least not easily. For some thoroughly inexplicable reason, Kurt truly did not seem to _want _to expose Dave's secret.

Which oddly left Dave feeling deeply uncomfortable. Because, although he honestly did not want other people to be in on his secret, a part of him _did_ nevertheless want Kurt to tell it. Which was not as contradictory as it might have seemed. For although Dave genuinely did not want other people knowing about him, he also did not want Kurt to continue to retain this power over him, either.

Right now Kurt possessed a weapon that he could use against Dave at any time, for any reason, whenever the fancy might strike him. This left Dave in the position of having to anticipate Kurt's moves, something which, at the moment, he was still very ill-equipped to do. If he could somehow provoke Kurt into telling, he would then at least be in a position to openly deny it, and the power Kurt held over him would be neutralized. The instant Kurt told, Dave would once again have the capacity to influence the situation, prevent the information Kurt had from being able to harm him; he would once again be able to exercise some degree of control over it.

Once the secret was out in the open, Dave could do something about it. As long as it remained locked inside Kurt's head, Kurt held all the cards. Dave knew he could not live indefinitely in such a state of nervous anticipation. He would either have to get the other boy to tell his secret, so he could then go about the business of refuting it, or he would have to make sure Kurt was too frightened to ever tell. He was sincerely hoping Kurt would cooperate with Option A as he really did not relish the idea of Option B. But he would do it, if he really had no other choice.


	12. No Sense

Kurt was really wishing he did not have algebra right after lunch. He desperately needed something to distract him momentarily from his life and, no small surprise, being made to solve quadratic equations was not exactly doing the trick. _Damn Karofsky, damn him to hell!_

Kurt could not help remembering the jock's creepy overture to him at lunch. He had been telling Mercedes that love was just around the corner only to turn around himself and see Dave walking past them. The pathetic closet-case had made some imbecilic quip about him being a "homo" and then he had had the unbelievable audacity to _wink_ at him! The guy was seriously fucked up.

Kurt honestly could not even begin to understand what was going on in the other boy's brain. And although a part of him found that immensely comforting, all things considered, another part of him wished he could at least souse out some rhyme or reason to the way Dave had been behaving toward him lately.

Predictably Karofsky had kept up most of his old standby forms of harassment: randomly shoving him against lockers, throwing slushies in his face, shouting insults at him in the most public forums he could manage, etc. And to some degree that at least made sense. If, all of a sudden, he had decided to just leave Kurt alone, that probably would have aroused suspicion amongst his Neanderthalic cronies.

But it was these new, more 'subtle,' forms of torment that Kurt found so frustratingly inexplicable. I mean, why bother insulting him when nobody but Mercedes was close enough to hear it? Didn't that entirely defeat the whole public humiliation point of the exercise? And why _wink_ at him, for crying out loud? It was almost like Dave_ wanted_ Kurt to remember what had happened between the two of them in the locker room.

Which, again, did not make any sense…at least in conjunction with the explicit denial Dave had espoused during their last conversation about the incident. The jock had seemed thoroughly invested in maintaining his delusion that the kiss never happened. So why was he now going out of his way to remind Kurt of the very thing that he, himself, seemed to want to pretend never occurred in the first place? The whole thing was just too bizarre for words.

It was like Karofsky did not want Kurt to openly acknowledge or talk about what had happened between them, but, for some reason, he _did _want Kurt to remember it, and think about it. _**Why? To what end? What did Karofsky want? What was he after with all of this?**_

This whole strategy of increasing his harassment toward Kurt, and doing so in more suggestive ways, also seemed completely counter to Dave's aim to remain in the closet. I mean, in some ways, it was almost like he was actually _daring_ Kurt to out him with all this. Like, for some reason, he _wanted _Kurt to finally crack under all the strain and spill the beans about him being queer. But again, WHY? What exactly did Karofsky stand to gain from that?

Much as Kurt tried to wring answers or sense from Karofsky's behavior, all he seemed to get was more contradictions and more questions. He found himself wondering if Blaine might not have a few more useful Freudian terms for any of this and made a mental note to ask him later on. In the meantime, he need to get back to his algebra or his math grade was liable to take the same beating his peace of mind had of late.


	13. Out of Control

As Dave had both predicted and feared, Kurt was still just as silent as ever. Over the past week he had resumed his previous pattern of bullying and harassment to absolutely no effect whatsoever. Kurt had been enduring stoically, with an almost Zen-like air of acceptance. It was beyond strange. It was as if, the more Dave tortured the other kid, the _more_ determined he seemed to become to not say anything. It made absolutely no sense.

However, it did lead Dave to the conclusion that he was going to have to change his strategy. If being mean did not work, perhaps being provocative would. Maybe the answer was not in making it seem like he hated Kurt, maybe the answer was in 'pretending' that he liked Kurt. Perhaps continually jogging Kurt's memory of their interlude in the locker room would make him more inclined to share the incident with someone.

So Dave had tested his theory today at lunch, walking by Kurt's table, winking at him and asking him what was up. He had made sure to do it in front of a witness, someone he knew was friends with Kurt, so perhaps Kurt would be more inclined to confide in her. Dave figured maybe if Kurt had 'proof,' evidence of some kind, his story might not seem so far-fetched.

For it had occurred to Dave that perhaps the reason Kurt had not told anyone at school before now was that he simply did not think anyone would believe him. After all, he knew all too well that he was one of the last people on the plant any one of their classmates would suspect of being gay; it was quite possible Kurt had not even bothered trying to tell them simply because he thought it would be futile effort from the get-go. Coming-on to Kurt in public, Dave thought, might perhaps give the story more credibility.

The irony of this enterprise was not lost on Dave in the least. He was actually going out of his way to make the story of him kissing Kurt seem _more_ credible, just so he could then, subsequently, go about the business of discrediting it. It was completely nuts, he thought to himself, not for the first time. I mean, _why_ exactly was he trying to get himself outed again? Especially when Kurt already seemed so disinclined to share?

However, invariably, as soon as Dave posed that question to himself, the familiar answer would come rushing back to him with a vengeance: because living with this uncertainty made him feel like he was walking on eggshells, living his whole life suspended on a tight rope. It was just too stressful to maintain, waking up day after day, wondering if this would finally be the day that someone would ask him if it was true that he had kissed Kurt. He needed that moment to come already, just so he could stop constantly worrying about it when it was finally going to come.

However, while Dave was conscious enough to realize that that rationale _was _indeed true, he was also conscious enough to realize it wasn't the whole truth, either. Although his rational mind _did_ stress about the precariousness of his secret, and the terrifying social consequences its' release might bring about, Dave also knew there was a more visceral element to his continuing overtures to Kurt as well.

For many months now, Kurt's very presence had had the power to compel him, make him say things and do things over which he honestly felt he had no control. Being close to the other kid, touching him, having his attention, had come to feel necessary to Dave's very sanity and existence. The idea of leaving Kurt alone simply was not something his mind even had the capacity to seriously entertain. Kurt felt to him like water, like food, like air. Being away from the other boy for too long honestly made Dave feel sick to his stomach, and like he could not properly breathe. Which was maddening beyond belief.

As the days continued to tick by, Dave continued to feel, in all respects, less and less in control of his situation. Someone else was now in possession of his secret, and although the other boy was keeping it under wraps for the minute, Dave had no way of predicting how long that magnanimity would last. He had no way of predicting _if_ Kurt ultimately might tell, when he might tell, who he would tell or what effect telling was likely to have. And the uncertainty of all those things was making him half crazy.

Making him wholly crazy was the fact that, since the kiss, Dave's need to be physically near to Kurt seemed to be perpetually _in_creasing. At first he had thought that having consummated that desire might easy his yearning for the other boy somewhat. But precisely the opposite was turning out to be the case. He seemed to need more and more contact with the other boy everyday, just to feel as if he could get through the day in one piece. Dave was honestly scared about how out of control it was getting.

And he was angry. He was angry that he needed the other boy so badly and that he could not seem to control that need. He felt trapped and impotent and frustrated and scared…and he could feel that some kind of breaking point was on the horizon, coming frighteningly closer with each passing moment.


	14. InsideOut

"So, what do you think?" Kurt asked, imploringly.

"Sounds to me like he's even more conflicted about this than you are," Blaine said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Well, that's helpful," Kurt retorted sarcastically, but without heat.

"I will say one thing: I think you might be right, about him wanting you to out him."

"Really?" Kurt asked skeptically, a disbelieving expression on his face. "I thought that was just me being crazy and reading too much into it."

"No, I don't think so. In fact, it kinda reminds me of this thing I once read about, called suicide by cop."

Kurt's expression morphed into one of pure confusion. Blaine was quick to offer further exposition.

"See most people, when they want to kill themselves, they get a gun and stick it in their mouth or they jump off a building."

Kurt could not begin to imagine where Blaine was going with this, but he remained silent while the other boy finished his thought.

"But some people, they don't actually want to have to be the one to do the deed themselves. So what they do, instead, is provoke the police into killing them. _They_ don't want to have to be the one who actually pulls the trigger…so they get someone else to do it for them."

Kurt nodded and confirmed, "And I'm the police in this metaphor."

"Yes. It's like I said before, Karofsky wants to come out. Or at least a part of him does. But it sounds like he's too scared to actually do the thing himself. So he's essentially trying to provoke you into doing it for him."

"Frankly I'd be more comfortable actually shooting him," Kurt confessed sardonically.

Blaine laughed and Kurt could not help but smile, too.

"I'm not going to do it," Kurt said finally, after a long moment of silent consideration. "No matter how much he provokes me. I mean, whether he wants me to or not, either way I don't think it's a good idea."

"How so?" Blaine asked.

"Well, if he _does_ want me to tell, then I don't want to because I don't want to give him the satisfaction. And if he doesn't want me to tell, then I don't want to because that would just be cruel. By telling, I'd either be giving him exactly what he wants or I'd be seriously hurting him, and I don't really want to do either one of those things. Does that make sense?"

"Makes perfect sense," Blaine affirmed.

"Although," he continued speculatively, after a moment, "suppose he does want to come out. By telling someone, at least that would lift a lot of the burden off you…even if you would be doing him a favor in the process."

Kurt considered that for a moment but then he shook his head.

"No. If Karofsky wants to come out, he has to stop being such a wuss and do it himself. My desire to help him only extends so far. Besides, it's just as likely that we're wrong and he doesn't want to be outted at all. Until I have something more concrete to go on, I think it's probably best just to take him at face value on this."

Blaine nodded, affirming Kurt's reasoning as sound.

"I just wish I knew what he wanted from me!" Kurt exploded a moment later, unable to contain his frustration any longer.

"I thought you already knew that," Blaine replied, his tone light but housing a certain significance.

Kurt let out a frustrated snort and rolled his eyes at Blaine. "You know what I mean. I just wish I knew what response he's trying to provoke from me. I mean before, when he used to harass me, I thought he just wanted me to stop being gay. Which obviously wasn't a desire I could oblige, but at least I knew what the goal _was_ and at least it made some degree of sense. Now, it's like, I have no _idea_ what he wants. Does he want to terrify me into silence? Does he want to provoke me into outing him? Is he trying to recreate what happened in the locker room? _What is he after_?"

"Honestly, I seriously doubt _he_ even knows the answer to that. I think – and sorry if this makes you uncomfortable – but I think it _is_ pretty clear he wants to be close to you." Blaine paused briefly and then continued, "But I really don't think that there is a particular reaction he wants from you, necessarily. I think he just…wants you."

Blaine's very blunt words made Kurt's insides squirm. Overwhelming horror and disgust mixed with small doses of flattery, curiosity and, yes the tiniest dose of longing to create an emotional cocktail of such heady intoxication it was a wonder Kurt could still form coherent thoughts.

"Great, just one more thing he wants from me that I can't give him."

"Well, you _could_…" Blaine said, clearly being facetious.

"I'm so glad you find my predicament amusing," Kurt replied sarcastically.

"Look, I know this is serious. But taking it too seriously isn't actually going to fix it or make it any better."

"Fair point," Kurt conceded after a moment. "I guess the best thing to do is, as the British say, keep calm and carry on."

"That's as good a guide as any at the moment."

"Beside I doubt Karofsky will be able to keep this up indefinitely. Something's bound to come to a head, sooner or later...I just wish I knew which one I should be hoping for."


	15. Knowing & Saying

Dave could not stand it anymore. He had to find out if Kurt had told anyone…well, other than his boyfriend. It still did not seem like he had; no one at school appeared to be behaving differently towards him. But it was very possible that other people knew and they, like Kurt, were simply keeping it under wraps for the time being.

A part of Dave still didn't really want to know if anyone else knew. As long as no one was treating him any differently, what did it matter? He found himself asking. But he had eventually decided that his fluctuating paranoia was simply too exhausting to maintain. Knowing would be better than remaining in the dark was his ultimate conclusion.

Unfortunately that meant he was going to actually have to talk _to_ Kurt, not just shove him or talk _at _him. The mere thought of it made Dave's heart pound and his stomach fluttery. He honestly had no idea what he could expect from a genuine conversation with the other boy. He was well aware, by now, that Kurt had lost a lot of his fear and his antipathy towards him. More than anything else the other boy just seemed resigned to the various harassments Dave threw his way, a reaction which Dave found profoundly maddening. Nothing seemed to move the other boy; he just perpetually took the whole ongoing saga in stride.

Dave did not understand how Kurt could be so calm about this, so utterly unfazed by it. And in many ways it angered him that the other boy appeared to have become so terribly casual about his secret, walking around school as if nothing had happened and nothing changed. Dave wanted some acknowledgement that Kurt understood and remembered the true gravity of this, rather than viewing it merely as something to be shrugged off or disregarded.

If Dave was being honest that was the other thing that motivating his inquiry. He _did_ want to know if Kurt had told anyone else, but he also just wanted to find out what it was that Kurt thought about all this. The boy remained fundamentally an enigma to Dave, carrying on with his life at McKinley High as if their kiss had never occurred in the first place. It frustrated him to no end that Kurt seemed able to so easily dismiss it, that he appeared – for the most part – so thoroughly untouched by the whole affair.

Aside from the intervention he had tried to stage the day after the locker room, Kurt seemed to have had no particular reaction to finding out that Dave was gay or that he wanted Kurt. The other boy's behavior thus far made it appear as if none of this was particularly out of the ordinary, a reaction which Dave found profoundly unsatisfactory. After all, his entire world was coming undone at the seams over this and Kurt just carried on as if it was just a normal state of affairs, nothing to be terribly fussed about.

The other boy needed to be reminded of just what was at stake here. Being gay might not be a big deal to someone like_ him_, but to Dave it was still a VERY big deal. Kurt's increasingly flagrant casualness about all this frightened him immensely and he needed to ensure that the other boy was still taking the situation seriously.

So although he did not relish the idea of openly broaching the subject of his kiss with Kurt, that was exactly what he was going to have to do. He just hoped he would be able to keep his panic and his temper in check. The other boy had an uncanny capacity to illicit unpredictable reactions from him, and Dave could never be entirely sure how he would react to the other boy at any given time.

In fact, sometimes it felt to him as if someone else was in the driver's seat altogether when it came to Kurt. Dave often found himself saying and doing things when the other boy was around that he quite emphatically did not want to be saying and doing; at those times it was as if some other force entirely overtook his body remotely and he was just being pulled along for the ride. He would watch as if from a distance as his likeness insulted and abused Kurt while he, himself, was exiled from executive command of his person and forced to simply watch, helpless to intervene.

Maintaining control of himself was going to be a herculean effort and unfortunately not one he could prepare for with any adequacy because he really had no idea how Kurt was liable to respond to what he said. Hell, at this point he didn't even really know what it was he was going to say anyway.


	16. Threats & the Theatrics of Normalcy

Kurt's hands were shaking as he dug his keys out of his bag. Fumbling with the jumble of plastic and metal he was finally able to push the grey button on the small black remote that unlocked his driver side door. Grasping the handle, Kurt pulled up more vigorously than was necessary and swung the door open, launching himself into the metal and glass shell that provided, at least, the illusion of safety. Closing the door behind him, Kurt locked the whole car with the single push of a button, and at last tried to take a calming breath.

His heart was thundering in his chest. His whole body was vibrating from fear. Karofsky had actually threatened to kill him. And it had not been hyperbole, either, as much as Kurt wanted to believe otherwise. The other boy had been completely serious; Kurt had seen it in his eyes.

As well as Kurt knew the jock's capacity to bully and harass, up until now, he would not have believed Karofsky was capable of homicide. Now, he really was not so sure, and that was utterly terrifying. Kurt's first instinct was to call Blaine and tell him all about it, seek his council on the matter. But something in him quashed that impulse almost instantly.

Kurt quickly decided that, at least for now, he was going to keep this to himself. He did not want to tell Blaine or his father or Mercedes or Mr. Shuester, partially just because he did not want them worrying about him. Particularly his father, given all his recent medical problems; the _last_ thing Burt needed was one more thing to stress about. But also, partially, because he did not want people making a big deal out of this and inciting institutional intervention.

Kurt knew if he got teachers and parents and administrators involved, they would likely as not be totally unable to help him…at least in any substantial way. And what was more, they would probably actually make the situation significantly worse by letting Karofsky know that Kurt had tattled. The institution would fail to protect him, as always, and in trying to help they would only exacerbate the problem.

Kurt had never felt so painfully trapped. He could feel that well-known choking feeling rising in his throat and the familiar tingle at the top of his nose. His eyes soon blurred over with moisture and the tears leaked out in a steady stream. Kurt temporarily surrendered himself to the anguish. There was nothing else for it at the moment.

Banging his hand against the steering wheel in frustration as a particularly large sob clutched at his chest, Kurt mentally railed against the twists of fate that had somehow made this horrid _mess_ his life. He honestly began to wonder if this was not payment for some cosmic debt he had incurred in a previous lifetime. What great mortal sin could he possibly have committed that would warrant him having to wade through this never ending swamp of torture?

And it was the unpredictability of it that was most distressing. I mean, Karofsky went from tossing fairly lame, innocuous insults at him one day, to issuing death-threats to him the next. And who knew what was behind the massive mood swings, either. For all Kurt knew it could be governed by nothing more rational than the phases of the goddamn moon! Once again, Karofksy's behavior appeared to have no particular rhyme or reason to it and for the present, Kurt's life, and potentially his death, seemed completely subject to its' erratic whims.

How was he supposed to live like this? In a constant state of fear, never knowing when Karofsky might strike, or what form his next bout of harassment was liable to take. Emotionally he was completely rubbed raw, and it was all he could do to just keep inhaling and exhaling. He wanted off the roller-coaster, now. He wanted to be able to go through one single day without the constant nagging fear which was keeping him in perpetual fight or flight mode.

So many of his classmates walked the halls, day in and day out, their biggest fear being nothing more than a chemistry quiz. _They_ all probably thought that that was normal, just a neutral state of affairs, nothing to be particularly grateful for. Kurt envied them with a violence that made his stomach clench. All these blissfully ignorant people, they had no _clue_ how privileged they actually were. And for the briefest of moments he hated them all for they had that he didn't: the ability to walk down a hallway every once in a while in peace.

Kurt sat in his car for a long time, crying himself out and just trying to get himself back under control. Eventually his tears ran dry and his breathing became fairly regular again. His heart was still beating more forcefully than it should have been, but at least that was not visible. Kurt stuck his key into the ignition, then, and started the car. He would use the drive home to get into character, the character of a teen who had had an ordinary day at school. Kurt knew he could pull it off, this show of normalcy for his father. He was a performer, after all, and he had done this a hundred times before, more or less.


	17. What Matters

Looking back on the events of the day, Dave felt very unsettled. His conversation with Kurt had gone alright – all things considered – but he also could not shake the nagging feeling that the threat he had made to Kurt would somehow come back to bite him.

He had not necessarily even intended to make a threat on Kurt's life when he had abruptly called for his attention in the hallway. As the other boy had turned to look at him, Kurt had displayed only expressions of surprise and curiosity. Dave had even detected a hint of understanding in the smaller boy's cherubic face, as if he had been _expecting_ Dave to come around sooner or later, looking for guidance.

That had unsettled him. No matter how long this went on for, Dave fundamentally could not acclimate himself to Kurt's kindness and restraint, his impulse to be helpful. It flew in the face of everything he thought he knew about people and human nature. Equally baffling to Kurt's restraint was just his continued casualty about the whole incident, thus far.

As Dave had begun asking his intended question today in the hallway, he had not actually planned to say that Kurt had kissed him. In fact he had not originally planned to mention the kiss at all explicitly. He had meant to simply ask, "Did you tell anyone else what happened?"

But as Kurt had continued to stare at him with that earnest doe-eyed expression, Dave had felt the overwhelming urge to keep talking, if only to push through the discomfort of having the beautiful boy's undivided attention. And the words had just tumbled out, "How you…kissed me."

Dave had instantly regretted the fumbled statement the moment it had escaped his lips; he knew it made him look weak and idiotic, too cowardly to admit the truth, even to someone who already knew it. He had felt like a complete and utter fool as soon as the words were out of his mouth. However, when Kurt had quite loudly and unabashedly corrected him, Dave had suddenly moved from embarrassment to fear.

Although Kurt did not seem to want to tell any of their classmates directly what had happened, he also, weirdly, did not seem to have any problem talking about it publically in a manner which might lead to someone overhearing, either. That was the truly strange thing: Kurt fundamentally did not seem to care one way or the other if people found out about Dave's secret. It was as if, bizarrely, other people knowing made no difference to him whatsoever. As the other boy had said, "I understand how hard this is for you to deal with, so no, I haven't told anyone."

_For __**you**__ to deal with_…as if the only reason _not_ to tell a secret like this was purely out of respect for someone's private wishes. Kurt acted as if, objectively, it made no difference either way if people knew, and he was only restraining himself for the sake of Dave's personal desires. The other boy had made it seem, and sound, like the secret of him being gay was, itself, totally harmless, and Dave desire to hide it was nothing more than an individual idiosyncrasy which he was indulging out of pure magnanimity.

This mentality that Kurt exuded when spoke so casually about their kiss – that Dave's secret was in and of itself thorough innocuous – alarmed Dave immensely. Kurt demonstrated no genuine awareness at all of what Dave stood to lose if his secret came out. And he had needed Kurt to fully comprehend the raging terror he actually felt at that prospect. So, like he always did when something scared him, Dave had started threatening the other boy. He told Kurt he would kill him if he ever told any of their classmates what had happened.

The thought of actually killing another person was not something that had ever, in point of fact, crossed his mind. He honestly could not even imagine doing such a thing for real. However, that had been the only threat he could think of at the time that could fully re-communicate the gravity of his secret. Dave wanted and needed Kurt to take this as seriously as he did; he needed Kurt to stop walking around so casually, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Kurt was in possession of a highly explosive piece of information and Dave needed to be sure the other boy was handling it with every bit of care that it required. However, in retrospect he was concerned that Kurt might have taken him a bit too literally. Not that he was worried about the other boy's fear, per se; it was normal for Kurt to be afraid of him. No, what Dave was primarily concerned with was what the fear might cause Kurt to do in this instance, i.e. tell one of their teachers.

If Kurt honestly believed his life was in jeopardy, he might start involving faculty members and various other adults and that really was the last thing Dave needed right now. Between his plummeting grades and his skyrocketing bullying record, Dave's father was becoming more and more inclined with each passing day to intervene in his life. Something like this was liable to push him over the top, cause him to finally make good on his threat to send Dave off to military school or, perhaps more likely, get him pulled from the football team and grounded for the rest of his adolescent life.

Not to mention the potential it had to get him outed to his parents, a prospect which, in some ways, would be far worse than if Kurt just told other kids at school. While the other kids at their school would have no reason to believe Kurt was telling the truth about something like this, his family, in all honesty, would probably be all too ready to believe the story of him kissing Kurt.

It was not as if Dave had ever done anything to openly imply to his parents that he might be gay. However he had never actually had a girlfriend and he knew he was not particularly good at hiding his intense discomfort when other people asked him questions or made comments in public that presumed his heterosexuality. He could also tell that his parents were increasingly suspicious that something was wrong with him, due to the recent and admittedly radical shifts in his academic performance and his general behavior, both at home and at school.

Dave knew he was not a very good liar, nor was he particularly good at hiding his feelings, especially his fears and anxieties. His parents may not have known for certain, but Dave was sure they at least had some inkling or suspicion, and he did not want anything to come to light that would validate their inferences further. It was not as if Dave thought his parents would react negatively to finding out the truth about him. They would still love him, of that he was certain.

The problem was, with them, that it would just become this huge **thing**, and Dave really, _**really**_ did not want that. Everyone would make such a fucking big dealing about it and that was the prospect that he really feared and dreaded. If he thought he could tell his parents, have them say "okay" and everybody just go on with their lives as normal, he probably would have done it already.

But he just knew, as soon as his family found out, this thing would become the one and only thing that defined him. Everything he did and did not do would become subsumed under that; every time he slammed a door, listened to his headphones, went for a walk, avoiding taking out the garbage, it would all just become 'signs' that he was confused or distraught about his sexuality, rather than him just wanting to go for a walk or not wanting to take out the garbage.

Once he told his family, everything in his life would become about _that_ and Dave positively hated that thought. Why did sexuality have to mean so much? He wondered. Why did it have to be this thing that defined you? Why couldn't it just be something you liked to do, rather than be something that you _are_? He just could not understand why it mattered so very much to everyone. When he really thought about it, he decided it did not make the least bit of sense.

But whether it was logical or not, that's the way it was. It was everyone else's world, and he was just living in it, trying desperately not to get caught up in the trap of his sexuality totally defining him to everyone around him. That was the real difference, Dave had concluded, between himself and Kurt. Kurt did not seem to _care_ that when most people looked at him, all they saw was 'the gay kid.' Kurt did not seem to mind that that was how most of the world perceived him.

But while Kurt may not have cared, Dave cared tremendously. Honestly, the thought of _being_ gay did not, itself, horrify him nearly to the extent that the thought of being _seen_ as gay did. Over the past few weeks Dave had found that he could desire other men, and even act on that desire, without losing his fundamental sense of self. However, Dave did not believe for one second that he could tell other people he was gay without being instantly robbed of that very same sense of self.

The minute Dave told anyone about his sexuality, he knew that he, as an individual, would get lost in the confession. It would submerge him entirely and all his individuality would turn to ashes and dust. It would become worthless and meaningless; it would cease to matter. _He_ would cease to matter, and the way he saw himself - the way he wanted others to see him - would suddenly count for nothing.

Dave could not handle that - the thought of being so casually, violently erased against his will. He would not let it happen. And if ensuring that it did not happen required death threats, well then, so be it.


	18. Crossed Wires

Kurt tried to focus on the wedding plans in front of him, but the events of the day thus far kept intruding on his mind. He had almost spilled the beans in Sue's office this morning, had said too much and was almost lured into giving up the full story about Karofsky and his psycho obsession. Kurt had managed to back out of it at the last minute, but it had been a close call.

He had not meant to end up there in the first place, but after Karofsky's latest and most disturbing overture to him yet, this morning, Kurt had not had time to put himself back to normal before Mr. Shuester had seen him and asked if he was alright. At the time, Kurt had desperately wanted to say that he was fine and simply be allowed to continue on to his next class; but his terror had been so raw, there really had been no hope of hiding it. He had been taken to the principal's office where – surprise, surprise – Sue had told him that there was nothing legally she or the school board could do about Karofsky.

Which was just as Kurt had suspected all along. He knew it would be a bad idea to involve adults in this and unfortunately his suspicions had been vindicated. From here on in Kurt was determined to involve no one else in this unless Karofsky actually progressed to beating him up. Absent blood or broken bones, he was going to just let Karofsky have his way with him and endure in silence. After all, if no one could do anything about it, what was the point of complaining or making a fuss?

Kurt tried to return his attention to the stack of wedding cake pictures he had ripped from various magazines. He needed to find something elegant and lavish, but also tasteful and not too expensive. It occurred to him, as he shuffled through the glossy pages of decadent desserts that perhaps he should eat something. It _was _lunch time, after all. However, given the events of the morning, he was not feeling particularly hungry. Hell, given the events of the last few weeks, he had not been feeling particularly hungry. Plus, he would have had to go into the cafeteria if he wanted food, and that was not an option; Karofsky was in there.

So Kurt remained huddled in the back seat of his car, protected by door locks and tinted windows, the only place on campus he could truly feel safe. He continued methodically sorting the cake pictures into piles of "No" and "Maybe" when he suddenly came across one that stopped him in his tracks. It was beautiful and looked delicious, but Kurt could not manage to pay enough attention to the description to determine what flavor cake it was, or what kind of frosting was used or which company made it; he was too distracted by the little statue which had been placed on top of it in the photo.

It was the _exact_ one that Kurt had been carrying around with him today, until Karofsky had snatched it out of his hands. Involuntarily Kurt was regaled with a flashback of this morning's…encounter…in the hallway. One minute he had been conferring with Finn about wedding toasts and dances and the next he had turned around to discover Dave stood about a foot away from him, staring at him intently. The look on the jock's face had caused Kurt to break out into a cold sweat. It had been predatory and enigmatic in equal parts and it had made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

As the other boy had moved towards him, Kurt had been forced to back up while something Blaine had said tolled through his mind: "he wants to be close to you." In that moment, Karofsky's desire to be close to Kurt could not have been more ostentatiously clear. Kurt had tried to meekly voice his objection to it, but to no avail. Karofsky, in fact, had laughed at this objection, poking Kurt in the chest and then dragging his finger slowly down his body. The overt sexuality of the gesture had been quite shocking to Kurt, then, just in and of itself. In retrospect, it was even more shocking to him, given how public the environment was that had been in at the time.

Karofsky was getting bolder with his come-ons, executing them in plain view of the general public now. Which lent credence to the theory that he really did want to be found out, Kurt noted, absently. Kurt had managed to resist giving that particular victory to Karofksy (barely) but to his dismay he had not really put up any resistance to the other boy's invasion of his personal space or the thieving of his private property. And the reason he had not was actually more shameful to Kurt than just the mere fact of his acquiescence.

As Karofsky had stood there towering over him, their faces so close, the other boy's hand sliding down his chest, Kurt had not been able to suppress the flare of arousal that had been evoked within him, along with his fear. His fear _had_ unequivocally been worse, much worse. There was no two ways about that. Terror had most certainly been his predominant emotion at the time. But Kurt would have been lying if he did not acknowledge that some small part of him had found the encounter vaguely titillating as well.

A reality which had, itself, only worked to increase his fear further. Because now, not only was he under constant external assault from Karofsky, but he was also apparently under internal assault by his own traitorous libido. His body seemed determined to betray him into having feelings of sexual desire for a person whom he, at least on an intellectual level, patently _loathed_. Kurt now had to be scared not only about what Karofsky was liable to do to him in the future, but also about how he was liable to react when Karofsky did it.

_What the hell was wrong with him?_ Kurt wondered. Some kid threatens to kill him and somehow his mind manages to warp that into a turn-on? At what point and in what tiny, remote corner of his brain, did the wires between 'sexually arousing' and 'terrifying' somehow get crossed and interlocked with one another? The question cause Kurt no small amount of distress and the mere fact of it was perhaps more terrifying to him than anything Dave had ever done to him…or would ever do.


	19. The Spectacle

"_What the hell is going on here!"_

Dave was still trying to catch his breath when he heard Sam reply, in a low undertone, "Nothing," to this question. Trying not to display any of his surprise at this response, Dave remained unnaturally still as a moment of silent tension permeated the locker room. The coach narrowed her eyes at him and then proceeded to flick her head back and forth between himself and the blonde boy, clearly skeptical that their fight had truly been without cause.

She seemed to decide eventually, however, that, whatever the cause was, it was not worth pursuing. Taking her hands off both their chests she barked threateningly, "I'm not going to report either of you this time but if I _ever _catch you fighting again you can bet on detention and possibly a suspension. Now get out of here! All of you!"

Dave was all too happy to do as she asked. Not meeting anyone else's gaze in the sparsely populated locker room, he moved to his locker, retrieved his belongings and made a beeline for the door, feeling everyone else's eyes following him as he left.

As he made his way toward the school's main exit Dave could feel he was flushed; his face was very hot and a nervous anger was still churning in the pit of his stomach. Approaching his truck Dave launched himself into its steel and glass enclosure, anxious to be out of sight but not in any particular hurry to actually go anywhere. As he stared out onto the school's grounds somewhat blankly, he felt himself slowly calming from the bizarre incident.

Looking back on it, from even this tiny bit of distance, Dave knew he had overreacted. Such was his habit these days, and there really was no help for it. The topic of Kurt was always just an instant fuse to his temper. Every time someone mentioned the other boy's name, even in passing, Dave was terrified that that would be the moment he would discover his secret had been revealed. That was certainly the thought that had first visited upon him when Artie and Mike had confronted him today after practice.

As soon as Artie had issued his command – "Stop picking on Kurt" – Dave had felt a lump rise in his throat and his stomach twist violently with fear.

"Do you mind? I'm changing," he had retorted, his abject terror evident in his tone.

"We're serious," Mike had interjected then, slamming his locker closed for extra emphasis. "This is a warning."

By then Dave had moved past his initial, instinctual fear and was able to respond in a more appropriate tenor and manner.

"Oh, yeah?" he had asked, mockingly.

"From now on you're going to leave him alone."

The idea that anyone had the power to make him leave Kurt alone, Dave reflected absently, was quite frankly laughable. Certainly none of the Glee losers who had tried it that afternoon.

"Look, if he wants to be a homo, that's up to him. Don't rub it in my face."

His first sentence, Dave knew, was nothing short of a complete load of crap. Kurt probably did not _want_ to be a "homo" anymore than he necessarily did. And Dave knew all too well that being gay _wasn't _up to Kurt, any more than it was up to him. That was mostly a mentality that floated around his group of friends and which he had reiterated in that moment mainly for their benefit.

The second part of his statement, however, had been entirely in earnest. When Dave had said, "Don't rub it in my face," every iota of disgust in his voice and his expression had been utterly genuine.

Dave often honestly felt as if Kurt's walk and his talk, his gestures and his manner, were nothing short of ostentatious taunts aimed directly and personally at him. Every time the other boy walked down the hall swishing his ridiculously well-dressed hips , his nose pointed high in the air, every hair on his head arranged just so, it seemed to Dave that Kurt was doing it on purpose, just to flagrantly mock him. Every casual delicate gesture, every soft spoken remark, every pair of skin-tight jeans, they were all like blaring sirens and blinking lights just constantly blasting the word "GAY" at him whenever the other boy was in the vicinity.

Because of this, Kurt's very presence always made Dave feel encroached upon and suffocated…and, he had to admit, aroused. Dave did, indeed, loath the somewhat camp spectacle of Kurt; not because it produced offense, but because it produced within him so very much lust. He hated that Kurt had the power to make him respond that strongly, just by walking down a hall or twirling his hair. The boy's slightest affectations screamed out to Dave about a desire he reviled and yet, simultaneously, could not help harboring. Why did Kurt have to make Dave want him so very badly? Did the other boy not understand that the sight of him felt like nothing short of torture?

Kurt clearly had no idea the kind of effect he had on someone like Dave and, as such, the boy's blithe obliviousness was a source of much frustration for him. If only Kurt could, or would, stop rubbing it in Dave's face all the time. Then maybe _he_ would be able to leave the other boy alone once in a while.

More words had been exchanged. By now the details were fading from Dave's mind. He could remember somebody telling him to "back off" and that, apparently, had been his tipping point. He had pushed Mike down with all of the anger he usually reserved solely for Kurt, making Artie tip over in his wheelchair in the process. Dave had not actually meant for that to happen but, in the moment, he had been flooded with too much anxiety about himself to be able to spare much for the people who had provoked him.

By that point Sam had jumped in and the fight had descended into a circus of pure aggression. Which had actually been preferable to Dave than the verbal sparring. He would rather a wordless fist-fight than an argument any day, especially when the topic was Kurt. For sure, sticks and stones could break his bones, but his bones had the power to heal. Secrets, once revealed, remained out in the open forever. Those were wounds that never healed, exposures that could not be sutured. Dave would risk stitches to his scalp long before he'd risk permanent injury to his reputation.

However, Dave also knew he would have to be a lot more careful with both his words and his actions from now on. Other people were clearly starting to notice that his harassment of Kurt was not exactly the standard, run-of-the-mill variety and, as such, he needed to be a lot more restrained if he wanted, in the future, to avoid confrontations like the one he had fumbled through today. He had _just_ managed to scrape by this time without getting into any real trouble, but Dave knew that was down to pure chance as much as anything else. Luck might not be with him the next time around and, if the school decided to intervene, his parents would be contacted and there would be awkward conversations about bullying and Dave knew all too well that he was wholly unprepared for that. He needed to make sure things never got that far or he would be totally screwed.


	20. Today & Tomorrow

The skyline behind Blaine's parking garage was beginning to become an intimately familiar sight to Kurt. Once again he found himself sat in the other boy's car, venting about the events of his day and the concerns he had about where those events would lead tomorrow.

"You should have seen it, a bunch of boys from our Glee club actually staged a confrontation with Karofsky, trying to get him to stop bullying me. It was awful. He ended up punching one of them right in the face, and he injured two of the others as well. I felt so unbelievably bad about it. I mean I _never _would have asked them to do that for me. Ever," Kurt said, clearly very distraught about the incident.

"Kurt, honestly, why can't you just be happy that you have friends who love you enough to do something like that for you? Instead of being such a guilt monger," Blaine asked his exasperation evident.

"Because I don't want them getting hurt on my account. Just because Karofsky's a crazed closet-case, that's no reason for all of them to end up with black eyes and dislocated shoulders! If he wants to take that out on me, fine, but I don't want other people getting involved and becoming collateral damage."

"But Kurt, it's _not _fine! And I'm not sure what kind of friends they would be if they hadn't stood up for you somehow."

"Oh, and to make matters much worse, now my father knows too. I was giving him and Finn dance lessons in the choir room today, you know, practicing for the wedding. And so of course Karofsky walks by and he does _this_ to me from the door way -" Kurt imitated the limp-wristed gesture the jock had directed at him.

"And my dad, of course saw, and then wanted to know Karofsky's name. And I tried to tell him to just forget about it but then Finn kept insisting that I tell him about being harassed. So I told my dad that Dave had been giving me a hard time and tried to leave it there but somehow my father could tell that wasn't all. So then I told him about Karofsky threatening to kill me and –"

"Wait, WHAT?" Blaine interrupted.

Kurt had honestly forgotten he had not told Blaine about this. The whole Karofsky situation was beginning to progress so quickly and erratically now, that he had a hard time keeping track anymore of who knew what, exactly. Kurt tried to quickly explain without making it seem like it was too big a deal.

"Last week, right after school, Karofsky came up to me and asked if I had told anyone about the kiss. I told him no, of course I hadn't. And then he said something to the effect of 'Good, you better keep it that way or I'll kill you.' I really don't think he meant it literally, I think he just wanted to make sure I wouldn't tell anyone."

"Kurt," Blaine said slowly, pausing for effect, "for someone who is such a good performer, sometimes, you're a terrible liar."

Kurt felt the façade he had momentarily erected melt almost instantly away. Blaine apparently had the same capacity as his father to see when he was deliberately trying to hide something.

"He meant it, didn't he?" Blaine asked, his tone quite grave.

"Well, yeah, maybe but, that actually isn't what I'm really worried about."

"Oh, well then, pray tell, what are you actually worried about, if not your own continued existence?" Blaine queried, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Like I was saying, when my father heard about what Karofsky had said to me he actually ran after Karofsky and pinned him against a wall, threatening him. Now he's completely hysterical about the whole thing. Tomorrow we have to have a meeting with Karofsky and his dad and the principal. I mean, my dad can't handle this kind of stress. He recently had a severe heart attack. That's why I've been trying to keep all this from him. Whether or not Karofsky is actually capable of what he threatened – and I'm still not entirely sure that he is – my father is still much more likely to suffer another heart attack from knowing all this than I am of actually getting murdered. My father _is_ in more danger here than I am."

Blaine took a deep breath and continued staring a bit skeptically at Kurt. He appeared to be considering Kurt's reasoning very thoroughly before actually replying.

"Okay, I concede that is probably true," Blaine said slowly. "But, I still think you might not be taking this as seriously as you should be."

"What is it you think I should be doing?" Kurt asked, undecided as to whether he was just being rhetorical or whether he really wanted an answer.

"Well, I think you should have told someone, an adult who could help. If not your father, then maybe Mr. Shuester or your guidance councilor."

"Believe me," said Kurt earnestly, "I _wanted_ to tell someone. But because Karofsky has never actually physically hurt me, the school doesn't have the power to do anything. I know, the principal told me so, herself. And, I mean, I can't prove that he threatened me, either, because nobody else heard it. Without proof, either a witness or some broken bones, there is no disciplinary action they can take. Telling would only have gotten a bunch of people all worked up without actually accomplishing anything useful."

Blaine appeared a bit dumbfounded by Kurt's words, which made Kurt feel a bit dumbfounded himself. The other boy had always seemed so insightful and ahead of the game. This was probably the first time that Kurt had actually stumped him. Which did not make Kurt feel victorious so much as resigned that he had been right all along, and there really was nothing anyone could do.

"You know," Blaine said, after a moment, "I think I forget sometimes what it's like to be out there in the 'real world.' I've been at Dalton for so long now, I think I've become accustomed to the idea that the system is always designed to work for you, never against you. I forget sometimes it's not like that everybody."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you have me to remind you," Kurt replied, his voice quavering.

Blaine smiled one of his heart-breaking smiles of sympathy and grasped Kurt's shoulder lightly, offering comfort.

"But it doesn't matter anymore anyways, because the cat's out of the bag. Tomorrow we're all having a meeting with the principal. God, I really, REALLY don't want to go to that meeting! It's going to be awful. I'm terrified my father is going to lose it completely and give himself another heart attack…or just make a scene. And I'm worried about what kinds of questions they're going to ask me. Like I said before, I refuse to out Karofsky, or tell the truth about why he's harassing me. But I'm afraid in trying to keep that secret, I may get caught in a lie and then they'll think I'm just making the whole thing up, or something."

Kurt paused, contemplating the full gamut of possibilities that problem presented. Then he continued.

"And who knows what Karofsky's father is like. If the guy is a total jerk, like his son, which isn't exactly unlikely, then he could end up getting in a real fight with my father or even start attacking me. And then there's Karofsky himself. Who the hell knows what he's liable to say about all this. I'm just terrified it's all going to descend into a big shouting match and then when it's all over, everything will just go back to the way it was before. I'm really worried it's all going to end up being horrifically stressful and ultimately pointless."

"I'll admit, there is a good possibility of that. But it doesn't sound like there's any getting out of it. And at the very least, you'll go into it knowing that someone other than Kafosky will be calling the shots. Even school bullies are usually afraid of their parents and the principal."

"True." Kurt replied. He paused for a minute and then confessed, "I have to admit, I am curious to see what he's going to say. Karofsky, I mean. What defense is he going to use? I wonder if he'll just deny the whole thing is happening, or if he'll say that _I_ came on to _him_, or if he'll just out and out say I deserve it cause I'm a fag…really hoping he doesn't do that, for my father's sake."

"Not for yours, though, right, because you know – you deserve to be called names."

"You know what I mean."


	21. Gravy

Dave was in agony. His father had not said a word to him since they had left the principal's office and that was a good fifteen minutes ago now. Sat in the passenger's seat of his father's SUV, Dave was trying to keep himself from hyperventilating, both from fear of his father and panic about his expulsion. His father seemed to be remaining silent on purpose, deliberately letting Dave stew in his own shame and regret. He was clearly trying to keep Dave in a state of terrified anticipation and it was working. Dave was, indeed, terrified.

As they pulled into the driveway of their two-story colonial, Dave could feel the time for reckoning was imminent. He waited until his father turned off the car engine and unbuckled his seat-belt before following suit, exiting the car with an appropriately shame-faced expression. He followed his father up the brick walkway and waited demurely while he unlocked the front door. Dave then walked in the older man's wake as he made his way along their center hallway and into their living room.

Almost as soon as they crossed the threshold, Paul Karofsky issued his son a single word command: "Sit."

Dave did as he was told, lowering himself on to the edge of their sued sofa. With his hands placed awkwardly on his knees, and his head bent, Dave stared at the carpet beneath his feet while he waited for his father's impending explosion of fury. As the man took a few deep, highly audible breaths, Dave could tell he was trying to keep his anger in check, something for which he was exceedingly grateful. Although his father prided himself on being a generally restrained and understanding person, he did posses quite a temper; to be sure, it was a trait they two had in common. Finally, he spoke.

"Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on with you?"

The voice that asked this of him was quiet, clearly infuriated but also strangely pleading. Dave could tell his father was just as concerned_ about_ him as he was angry _at_ him for this whole mess. And he knew he was not just being rhetorical with his question. Dave could tell he genuinely wanted to be let in on the secret that lay behind all of this. It was as if his father suspected, but he did not want to have to be the one who actually voiced the suspicions he was harboring.

Dave strongly sensed his father was giving him an opening, trying to ease the way for the inevitable; and he was, indeed, grateful. But something in him just could not take the offering, well-meaning as it was. To be sure, there was a part of Dave that had screamed 'YES' to his father's question almost as soon as it had been asked. Dave _did_ want to tell someone what the hell was going on with him; in some ways, that was his fondest wish. But it simply was not that simple. The minute Dave fessed up, his whole life would be completely upended and he just wasn't ready for that. So much about his life had already been upended today, he just did not think he could handle yet another colossal upset to his world. One emotional drama at a time.

So instead of giving his father the confession he was looking for, Dave simply replied, "Dad, I'm sorry," his voice dripping with every ounce of regret he was feeling.

"What are you apologizing to me for? You should be apologizing to Kurt! Did you really threaten to kill him?"

"No, Dad, I swear it wasn't like that. I mean, I did say that to him, but I didn't mean it for real."

"Well, David, _he_ certainly thought you meant it. So whatever you were trying to cover up with that threat, it must have been pretty bad. What have you been saying or doing to that poor boy that would make him think you would actually kill him if he told on you?"

"I…" Dave really had no idea what he could possibly say to that inquiry. He couldn't tell the truth, but he didn't think his father would allow the question to simply go unanswered, either. Dave tried to think up a plausible lie, but his brain simply would not cooperate. He remained mute while his father stared intimidatingly at him, arms crossed, face growing redder the longer he was silent.

"You've already been expelled and you're going to be grounded for a very long time no matter what you tell me, so you might as well tell me. What could possible compel you to say such a thing to him and why would he think you were serious about it, if you weren't?"

"Dad, it was just teasing that got way out of hand," Dave said, wondering if that explanation sounded as lame to his father as it did to him.

"And why were you teasing him the first place?"

This loaded question was posed to Dave in a tone of great significance. He could tell his father already knew exactly why Kurt, in particular, had been his target and he seemed determined to make Dave say it, own to it out loud. It was another opening, Dave realized, another plea for him to come out...another plea that would have to go unheeded.

"I dunno," Dave said unconvincingly, shrugging his shoulders nervously as he did so.

"Is it because he's gay?" Paul asked, his tone making it clear that this question was not really a question at all, but a statement.

The moment his father said the word 'gay' Dave could feel his face flush and his heart beat quicken. So far, today, that word had been deftly avoided, despite the fact that it was precisely what this whole mess was, and always had been, about. His father suddenly making the word explicit felt a bit to Dave like a violation of some kind, the breeching of a tacit, yet deeply solemn agreement.

"I'll take that as a yes," his father huffed a moment later, when Dave continued to avoid his gaze and remain mute. "I don't know where you got the idea that that is a good reason to make fun of someone, but you certainly didn't get it from me or anyone else in this house. I can only assume this has something to do with your friends, in which case, you might want to consider that they are not really good friends to you, if you have to pick on other people in order to impress them."

Dave felt a strange resentment for his father at this pronouncement. While he could not deny that his friends _were_ a driving force behind many of the incidences which had gotten him into trouble of late, he also still felt a genuine camaraderie with them. They made him feel cool and included, and he did share many interests with them, including football. Dave, by and large, liked his friends, even though he knew they could sometimes be quite mean, and sometimes made him quite mean. For his father to suggest that it was as simple as just deciding they were not good influences, and subsequently withdrawing his friendship from them, was, Dave felt, overly simplistic. That was not how friendship worked; it was more complicated than that.

"In any event, you won't have worry about that much longer because we'll be enrolling you in a new school by the end of the week. You're also grounded for at least the next two months," he continued, almost absently.

Dave whipped his head up to look at his father, as the older man turned to leave the room. Not able to contain his acute panic at this pronouncement, Dave stood up quickly and pleaded, his voice infused with emotion, "Wait!"

His father turned back to look at him, and Dave dropped his gaze briefly before hedging, cautiously, "The principal said we could appeal to the school board – overturn the expulsion."

"And why should your mother and I go to the trouble of a pleading your case at a school board hearing when you've already quite clearly demonstrated that you don't deserve it?"

Dave knew this was the breaking point. If he did not manage to make his case adequately to his father right here, right now, the chance would be lost to him forever. He had one shot, and somehow, far from making him nervous, that simply made his mind very calm and clear.

"Dad, I'm really, really sorry about what happened with Kurt. I swear to God I am. It won't ever happen again, I promise. I feel awful about threatening him and making him feel scared. What I did to him was horrible and it made me feel horrible and I don't want it to be that way anymore. I want to make it up to him. Please. Please."

Dave meant it, too. Every last word. For the first time that whole afternoon, he had been allowed to be totally honest, and he could tell his father saw the statement for the bald truth that it was. Everything from his face, to his voice, to his pleading hands communicated nothing but genuineness and Dave knew his father could see the difference. Whatever Paul thought about the reasons for his son's bullying behavior, one thing he knew without a doubt was that his son felt deeply, earnestly sorry about it.

"Fine," Dave's father said, after a long moment of silent consideration. "I'll make an appointment with the school board tomorrow and you can tell them what you just told me. I hope, for your sake, they believe you."

Dave let out a huge sigh of relief at this pronouncement, and almost smiled.

"But don't think for a second that you feeling sorry just lets you off the hook. You're still in big trouble and you're still grounded. And David - "

His father broke off his statement to walk back across the room towards him, his index finger pointed in Dave's face to add further emphasis to his forthcoming oath.

"I swear, if I ever hear of you harassing or harming so much as one hair on that boy's head _**ever**_ again, I will pull you out of that school myself, so fast that it will make your head spin. And that will be the very _least _of your punishments. Do you hear me?"

Dave nodded, his face the very picture of sincerity.

"I don't want to go through this with you ever again. So whatever is going on with you, you better figure out some way to deal with it that doesn't involve bullying other people. Are we clear?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now go upstairs and unplug your X-Box and your TV and bring them down here. I'm confiscating them until further notice."

Dave simply nodded and walked purposefully towards the stairs to do as his father asked. He wasn't even particularly upset about it. He still had a fighting chance at staying enrolled at McKinley. Everything else in his life was gravy compared to that. He would gladly give up his video games, his TV, his socializing privileges, hell, he would even have given up football without too much fuss if that had been what his father demanded as recompense for his misdeeds.

Dave needed to be near to Kurt. Everything else in his life was expendable. The thought of being separated from the other boy had been a horrific prospect for Dave to contemplate, and he would have given up pretty much anything his father asked in order to remain near to the object of his obsession. Kurt was the only thing in his life that Dave truly could not bear to part with. Next to the beautiful, magnetic boy, his TV was nothing.


	22. The Difference a Day Makes

"So it actually worked out?" Blaine asked, his tone one of genuine surprise.

"Yeah. Karofsky's been expelled. I mean, he might still appeal to the school board but for the minute, he's gone."

Kurt was torn between feelings of elation and disbelief. Not only had the meeting in Sue's office been a lot more civil than he had been anticipating, but he had actually gotten his way for once!

"So, I'm curious. What exactly happened in this meeting?"

"Well the best thing was that Dave's father actually turned out to be a nice guy. He was genuinely willing to believe what I had to say, which made the whole thing _a lot _easier. Basically it started off with Dave trying to say that nothing had happened between us. Then my dad told his dad about the threat he had made, to kill me. The principal, Sue, asked me if it was true and I, of course, said it was."

Kurt paused, trying to recreate the conversation in his mind so he could tell the story accurately.

"Dave denied it again. So then I said it was true, again. In fact, that was the scariest moment of the whole thing because when I said it, I accidentally let slip that he had threatened to kill me _if_ I told anyone. So then everyone wanted to know _if I told anyone what_? You should have seen Karofsky's face when they asked me that. It was almost…pitiful. But I covered quickly and said that it was just about him picking on me. So he then lets out this huge sigh of relief and goes back to denying everything. And then – and this was the most amazing part – Dave's father actually took _my_ side, sort of. He said that Dave behavior had been really erratic lately, that he'd been doing poorly in school, and acting out and stuff. You know, kind of implying that my version of events made more sense than Dave's in light of his recent behavior. Then he asked Dave why I would make something like this up."

Kurt halted the story temporarily to observe Blaine's reaction to this. Blaine seemed appropriately impressed, raising his eyebrows and nodding, a clear expression of approval on his face.

"So then, get this, Dave actually answers 'Maybe he likes me.' I swear to God, I was _THIS_ close to outing him then!" Kurt brought his right hand up to his face, placing his thumb and index finger about a centimeter apart to indicate how close he had come.

"But of course I didn't _actually_ say anything. My dad and his dad just sorta rolled their eyes. And then my dad said something like, 'This is a waste of time. It's your job to protect people,' to the principal. And then she said 'Couldn't agree more.' And then she expelled Karofsky right then and there! I was so relieved, I just couldn't believe it."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Blaine responded, a sizable smile in his voice.

"So Dave and his father left campus, without too much of a fuss, thank goodness. And I was allowed to go back to school in peace."

"Well, we should do something to celebrate."

"Like what?" Kurt asked, excited by the suggestion.

"I dunno, get drunk and go for a joy ride."

"Oh, come on, we're classier than that," Kurt responded, feeling some of his old flare returning.

"Well, then, why don't we get some sparkling cider and sip it out of champagne flutes while we watch Dream Girls on your dad's flatscreen."

"Now you're talking!" Kurt replied, finding that a thoroughly delightful proposition.

The two boys refastened their seat belts, and Blaine started the car once again. As they pulled out of the parking garage, Kurt thought back once again on his memories of the meeting that day. Something that he had forgotten about suddenly bubbled to the surface of his brain: the last few seconds, as Dave and his father had exited Sue's office. Kurt soon realized he had not told Blaine the whole of the story, after all.

"I was just thinking," he said out loud, as Blaine paused at a red light. "There's one thing I forgot to tell you. When Dave and his dad were leaving Sue's office this morning, for a minute Dave actually looked…_sorry_. Like genuinely sorry. I mean, he walked by me and he actually shook his head at me, with this expression on his face like – like – I had completely misinterpreted everything. And like he had never wanted it to come to this. I was quite amazed by that, actually…I thought he'd just be angry about the whole thing. But he actually just looked really _sad_."

"Huh," Blaine said, clearly as unaware as Kurt of what to make of that.

"Then again," the other boy mused after a moment, as he stared intently at the road up ahead, "that actually might make a large degree of sense, if you consider that his overriding ambition _was_, in fact, to remain close you. He doesn't get to have that anymore and I believe he probably is genuinely sorry about that, if nothing else."

Once again Blaine managed to find just the right words to make Kurt's insides twist with discomfort. He had not really wanted to probe Karofsky's ostensible remorse too far. He would rather have just walked away with the idea that Karofsky might be sorry, and simply have left it at that. However, Kurt also knew he could not fault Blaine for introducing him to that idea because he knew, sooner or later, that very same idea would have occurred to him, irrespective of what Blaine had just said.

With the actual threats of harassment and violence behind him, Kurt was able to look at the situation with a somewhat greater degree of objectivity. And he had to concede that, as horrible as Karofsky had made him feel at times, the other boy probably had not ever had as his fundamental goal Kurt's genuine injury or eradication. It was fairly clear to Kurt, especially now, that the other boy had probably desired him much more than he had reviled him and killing Kurt, or causing him serious bodily harm, would have been antithetical to Karofsky's primary M.O.

Ironically however, Karofsky's perverse pursuit of Kurt had now resulted in precisely that same predicament: Karofsky being separated from the thing he most wanted. There was a particular poetic justice to it, Kurt thought, along with there being a certain element of tragedy to it as well. Not for him, of course, but still. There had to be a Greek word for a situation like this.

Kurt briefly considered asking Blaine but then thought better of it. He wanted to enjoy today and not get bogged down in water that was freshly under the bridge. Besides, he needed to get himself out of the habit of thinking about this all the time. Karofsky's obsession with him had fostered a counter-obsession within Kurt, and Kurt was convinced that the sooner he went about dismantling that obsession, the better. He might actually be able to start eating and sleeping like a normal person again. He might even be able to enjoy his father's wedding, on which he had worked so very hard.

For the first time in a long time, instead of feeling as if his world was filled with horror movie monsters, Kurt's was beginning to feel as if it was filled with possibilities. Just 24 short hours ago, Kurt had been sitting in this very same car, bemoaning his fate and honestly fearing for his future. Now, 24 little hours later, he was positively reveling in it. And there really was no need or reason to look back.

And it was with that thought in mind that a particularly perfect song suddenly popped into his head.

"What a difference a day makes," he sang soulfully. "Twenty-four little hours…"


	23. Far from Nothing

Kurt knew it had been too good to be true. Had been too good to last. Lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he could not get the expressions of all his former fellow Glee club members out of his head. Their love for him had been so painfully, patently evident…which had just made leaving all that much worse.

Why did Karofsky have to ruin everything? And how had he managed to finagle so much power over Kurt's life? The injustice of it made his stomach clench. Kurt hated the other boy, hated him so much at that moment that it was difficult to breathe. He actually felt as if, given all the adrenaline pumping through his system, he could at that moment possibly have bested Karofsky in a fight. If not, he could at least have put in a good showing; broken a few bones, damaged a few major organs.

Kurt had never, ever felt rage like this before. He was not a violent person generally and normally he was, by his own estimation, something of a coward. But at the moment, he felt like if he opened his mouth, a bout of fire might just come bursting directly out of his lungs. That's how inculcated with fury he actually was.

There were, of course, tears streaming down his face, as was typical these days, but for the first time in a long time they were not tears of sadness or tears of fear so much as tears of rage. Kurt was consumed. There was no other word for it. He was utterly consumed.

The only silver lining was that he was going off to a place where nothing like this would ever happen to him again. And at the very least, he already had a bit of a head start, with a built-in new best friend.

Yet as the words 'best friend' ran through his mind, Kurt thought of Mercedes and he subsequently began his mourning all over again. This fresh wave of emotionality provoked him to roll onto his side and bury his head into his pillow. Hugging the rectangular cushion squarely across his face, Kurt screamed into its muffling depths as hard, and for as long, as he could. Then, when he had finally shouted himself out, rolled off the pillow and back onto his back to catch his breath.

And to his surprise, Kurt actually felt his stomach unclench slightly. He had reached the apex of his pain, it seemed, and was now beginning to coast along its' downhill slide. Kurt had no delusions that he would remain plenty depressed and angry about this for quite some time. But, as his tears began to dry and his heart beat evened out, he also could feel quite tangibly that he had pushed through the worst of the raw hurt.

Feeling his body slowly relax as all the adrenaline drained away, Kurt began to think about what Karofsky would do and how he would feel when he discovered that his personal punching-bag had transferred to another school. How would Karofsky react when he discovered that he no longer had Kurt available as a walking target to bully and harass and molest? The question actually provided him a strong, perverse sense of satisfaction. In fact, Kurt soon found himself imagining the scene with great relish, in very explicit detail.

Karofsky would go to school tomorrow morning, refreshed and ready to begin the torment anew. However, his ambitions would be thwarted by Kurt's uncharacteristic absence from the halls before homeroom. Karofsky would not think too much of it, at first. But as the day wore on, he would no doubt become more and more attuned to (and more and more distressed by) Kurt's continued absence.

He would not want to ask anyone, at first; wouldn't want to appear _too_ interested. That, after all, would be suspicious. But perhaps by the end of the day he would make some comment to Finn or maybe Puck, as the football team prepared for practice.

"Where's your nelly boyfriend today?" he would ask, as he and Finn walked out onto the field.

"Ah, if you're referring to Kurt, he's transferred to another school, thanks to you. I hope this makes you happy Karofsky – being the biggest, most colossal jerk of all time."

Karofsky would slow down his walk, almost to a halt, letting Finn outpace him. The reality would sink in, good and hard, as he made his way mechanically to his position on the field: Kurt was gone. He was really gone. He was gone and he was never coming back. And Karofsky was NEVER going to be able to have him again. Ever.

It would stun Karofsky so much, he wouldn't be unable to practice. After a few abysmal plays Coach Beiste would tell him to get the hell off her field and stop wasting everyone's time. He would go back to the empty locker room and slowly, in a daze, remove the whole of his gear, remembering all the while what had happened between the two of them, in that very same locker room.

Karofsky would feel aroused, and angry and completely ashamed. He'd put his regular clothes back on and race out to his car, feeling slightly panicked and hysterical. He'd put the keys in the ignition but he wouldn't actually turn them. Instead, he would slam his hands against his steering wheel, just as he had to that locker, after Kurt had pushed him away, and then he would break down crying. He'd be so angry at himself, so very, very angry. Both for loving Kurt and for forcing him to leave. And he'd hate himself for both those things in turn. The hate, and the anger, and the sadness, and the longing, and the regret…they would utterly consume him.

Kurt found this fantasy almost sickeningly delightful and it gave him no small amount of pleasure to conceive that such a thing was possible, if unlikely. He now wanted quite desperately to be a fly on the wall of whatever room Karofsky was in when he found out. Because as sure as Kurt knew the sun would rise tomorrow, he also knew Karofsky would regret having driven him away. Admittedly the other boy likely would not descend into the kind of passionate remorse his rather active imagination had concocted. But he knew Karofsky _would_ be upset by it, and that was something. The other boy would feel genuinely impoverished, not having Kurt around anymore to hit, and insult, and humiliate and proposition and that, in his book, counted as a victory in his column.

Karofsky may have driven him out of school, but the other boy had not won, not by a long shot. Neither of them had won, and in fact both of them had lost. But, unlike Kurt, Karofsky had no one to blame for his loss but himself and that made his loss infinitely more tragic. Kurt may not have won, but in the grander scheme of things he had finished ahead, and he _had_ gotten the last laugh. And that was not nothing. In fact, at this point, that was far from nothing.


	24. Severed Ties

Dave was not stupid; he knew it was probably not a coincidence that, on the day he returned to school from his suspension, Kurt was not there. He had not heard anything definitive about the other boy leaving, and so he was still hoping that Kurt had just decided to ditch for the day, or that he was simply out with the flu. It was a long shot, he knew, but he wanted to wait until he actually had conclusive information before surrendering fully to his disappointment.

He was completely precluded, of course, from openly asking anyone who would know for sure where Hummel was. If he was seen talking to any of the loser members of that Glee club, he would never be able to explain it to his friends. Plus, they all probably would have been too terrified to help him anyway. His best hope was actually just waiting until practice this afternoon and using the time to eavesdrop on conversations between Finn, Puck, Sam, Mike and Artie. Odds were they would say something about it, if only in passing.

It was driving Dave absolutely nuts that he didn't know where Kurt was. Which, in and of itself, was something that made Dave quite angry with himself. Every night he would lie in bed and promise that this was the last day he would spend dwelling on the other boy; the beautiful boy whose lithe figure, pixie-ish face and swaying walk always felt like an unnaturally powerful magnet compelling every cell in his body.

Yet every morning was inevitably the same – he awoke to dreams of the boy, dreams always centering around that gorgeous pink mouth of his and those graceful soft hands. And the familiar cycle would start all over again. He would not be able stop from touching himself while thinking about Kurt: Kurt properly kissing him, Kurt wrapping his long, lean muscular legs around his hips and grinding their hard cocks together as he did so. He could not fend off mental images of the other boy sticking his warm, soft, delicate hands down the front of his pants to grasp his arousal and stroke it, or fantasies of the two of them giving each other head, or…

Every morning his body would betray him and his mind would quickly be coaxed into playing along, aiding in this constant hormonal assault by summoning up all manner of images and scenarios that kept him painfully erect and aching beyond measure for even a temporary release. He always gave in, of course, but somehow it was never enough. Cumming always dulled the ache, briefly, but he was never fully free of it; his ministrations alone never managed to be wholly satisfactory. And he was in little doubt as to why.

He needed another person. To truly gain release from this, he need someone else to touch him, kiss him, grind up against him. He needed another person's hand and lips on his skin, biting, scratching, licking, sucking, rubbing. And not just any person would do, either. He had discovered this all too well.

He had tried with the girls, he had really tried. But it was always an effort to get there, with them, and in the end there was never any real satisfaction that came of it. They just did not fix it, none of them could fix it. None of them could produce the terrifying deluge of pleasure Kurt always did when their bare skin touched, even in passing. One glimpse of the boy, even, and his body was just instantly screaming to get closer, in any way possible, by any means necessary.

Kurt was an addiction, and Dave was an addict. Without those hits, Dave felt like he could not breathe, felt like his skin was crawling and covered in paper-cuts, like fissures were forming at every joint in his body attempting to rip him apart slowly from the inside out. He needed the other boy, needed him with a violence that terrified even him. And that violence had transformed him into someone who was terrifying in Kurt's eyes, as well as his own.

But couldn't the other boy _see_? Did he not understand that being shoved against a locker every now and then was nothing, NOTHING, compared to being under the constant, unrelenting assault of your _own_ body? Dave may have been the bully here in Kurt's eyes, but in _his_ eyes, his own body was the bully, and he was under constant 24/7 full red -alert attack. Dave hated his body, hated it for making him want things and need things he did not want to be wanting, things he positively _hated _himself for needing. He felt caged and out of control and at the constant, unrelenting mercy of a libido determined to perpetually horrify him with the things it had the audacity to command of him.

Dave knew he had made the other boy feel scared and trapped, at times, knew that Kurt hated and resented him for his constant harassment. But he had honestly never imagined that Kurt would take his threats as seriously as he had. Really all he had wanted was to ensure that the other boy would not tell anyone his secret. The thought of actually killing Kurt, or seriously harming him even, made Dave feel genuinely sick inside. He honestly could not even imagine doing such a thing.

But then again, he acknowledged, at times he did feel genuine rage at the other boy for making him want him so badly. Sometimes Dave was overcome with the most astounding anger and resentment for Kurt, as the swish of his hips or the softness of his skin solicited a desire in him that he abhorred. But still at other times, like now, all he wanted was the other boy close to him, to see him, smell him, touch him, to get a momentary fix on the one object around which his entire being seemed to want to orient itself.

The oscillation between these two passions within him was wildly unpredictable, Dave knew this all too well. Sometimes he would try to avoid the other boy for fear of not knowing how he would behave when they finally encountered each other once again. The problem was he could never predict whether his sexual desire for Kurt would win-out over his desire to be free of that desire. The two impulses seemed of relatively equal strength and it was always a toss-up as to which would triumph in any given moment.

That moment when he had threatened to kill Kurt, the desire to be free of the desire had clearly been dominant. However, that moment in the hallway, when he had stolen Kurt's statue, the sexual desire itself had been infinitely stronger. Dave, in fact, had been a bit afraid his body would completely ignore his halting commands and that his hand might simply keep going down the front of the other boy's body, that he might just kiss the other boy's lips or softly bite the other boy's ear or run his tongue along the throbbing pulse point on his neck or…

He had been so unbelievably close and if he was being truly honest, the thing that had stopped him had not, in fact, been the hallway full of passers-by. It had been that utterly terrified look in Kurt's eyes. Kurt's palpable fear had been like a dose of cold water dumped directly on top of his head. The closer he had moved toward the boy, the more scared Kurt had looked and Dave had not seen one shred of the lust in the other boy's eyes that would have made continuing his pursuit justified.

Dave did not know if he was fooling himself, or not, but ever since their encounter in the locker room he had, in the briefest of moments, sensed that Kurt might reciprocate some of his sexual feelings. Without a doubt, Kurt's predominant emotions toward him were ones of anger, resentment and anxiety; that was only to be expected. But underneath all of that Dave would have sworn that he sensed just the tinniest bit of sexual responsiveness in the object of his attentions. It was like a very faint, invisible current that flowed between the two of them and kept their energies bound up with one another.

A part of Dave's mind railed at him that that was a ridiculous notion and that he was being completely delusional. But at those moments when their eyes had met in the hallway, or when they had sat at a bit of a distance from each other in class, Dave would swear he could feel a kind of ebb and flow of heat between them that had not existed prior to the kiss. Prior to the kiss, the feelings had been completely one sided; Dave had pinned and longed and hungered, and the other boy had taken no notice whatsoever.

Now it was different. Whenever they had been in close proximity to each other, since the kiss, their bodies had been engaged in a kind of silent conversations, had taken on a heightened awareness of one another that Dave knew Kurt could feel just as strongly as he could. And although Dave had no proof, his senses told him Kurt's feeling toward him were not entirely adverse. Some part of the other boy's body did respond positively to Dave's desires and he was desperate for some kind of hard proof of that fact…so to speak.

It was what he had been looking for that morning when he had come on to Kurt in the middle of the hallway. He had wanted that evidence so badly, had been hoping against hope that the other boy would betray just an iota of his sexual feelings, if only for a split second, and then he would have all the justification he needed to continue pursuing Kurt. But Kurt had just seemed reviled and terrified and Dave had not been able to bring himself to either punch the smaller boy or kiss him. So he had simply stolen his statue instead, feeling undecided as to what to do next.

But soon enough that dilemma had become a moot point, for the principal had expelled him and he had suddenly been faced with the prospect of never being able to spend time around Kurt again. His father had wanted to just enroll him in a new school, feeling too angry and embarrassed by the whole thing to fight with the administration. Dave had had to beg his father and promise repeatedly that he would never harass Kurt ever again before he was willing to take up the battle to get him back into WMHS.

But now that appeared to have been a pointless venture as well. Because irrespective of the many other possibilities, Dave just instinctively knew Kurt was gone. Crazy as the notion made him feel, he could just sense that the other boy's presence was now nothing but a cold memory within school's halls. While the boy had been there, Dave had felt him, even when he could not see him; it had been as if Kurt's warmth and light had sent out a homing signal that Dave was attuned to and he had always just been able to sense the other boy within his general sphere. Now it was like someone had cut off the signal, as if that magnetic pull had suddenly evaporated, like someone had shut off the power, turned off the light, as if the constant beckoning throbbing pulse had suddenly gone dead. That invisible tie between them had been unequivocally severed and Dave did not really need to get hard confirmation on that. It was not an absence one could mistake.


	25. Bruises & Broken Hearts

"So Finn, how was football practice today?" Burt asked, very deliberately changing the previous subject of conversation.

Kurt was grateful to his father, even if the change of topic had not been executed with a great deal of subtlety or grace. His first day at Dalton had been a bit of a shock in multiple ways and Kurt was not yet in the mood to go into great detail about it over the dinner table.

"It was alright, I guess," Finn replied, his tone thoroughly unconvincing.

"What's wrong? Little off your game?" Burt asked, casually.

"No it wasn't me," Finn replied, a bit cryptically.

Kurt strongly sensed that Finn was deliberately withholding information, that he had something he wanted to say but was keeping quiet for some as yet undetermined reason.

"Then what was it, sweetie?" Carol asked.

Finn paused, looking uncomfortable, as three curious faced stared him down. After a moment, his resolve clearly cracked.

"I just kept getting sacked today, is all. The guy who normally plays right guard was totally blowing it and Coach Beiste had to bring in the sub, who also wasn't particularly good."

Kurt's stomach did a violent summersault. Although he was not sure, as he had never paid any particular attention to football positions, he had the strong suspicion that Finn was talking about Karofsky. It would certainly explain Finn's hesitance about the topic and the reason he did not seem to want to name names.

"Do you think he'll be fit to play again by your next game?" Burt asked, still seeming wholly oblivious to Finn's hesitance.

"I dunno. I guess so…" Finn let his thought trail away and descend into silence. He seemed lost in his own contemplations as he continued, "I mean the guy is usually really on top of it. I've never seen him like this before. It was weird."

Kurt was absolutely dying to know if Finn was talking about Karofsky, but he refused to actually ask the question out loud. He did not want his father getting worked up over this ordeal again, now that it had been dealt with. So he ate his mashed potatoes in silence and waited, hoping he would have a chance to ask Finn about it later, without it being too weird. Kurt definitely did not want to seem overly interested in Karofsky, especially now that their lives had become so thoroughly divorced from one another's. But he was still undeniably curious as to how the other boy was taking the separation.

"Well, is he a friend of yours? Maybe you guys could run some drills together," Burt suggested, earnestly.

"No, he's not really my friend. He and I don't get along very well, at all, actually."

"Why is that?" Carol asked quickly, clearly distressed by Finn's admission.

Finn was looking really uncomfortable by this point and Kurt genuinely wished he had something to say that would put a stop to this conversation, for Finn's sake as well as his father's. At this juncture, he had all the information he need to conclude that his step-brother was, in fact, talking about his ex-stalker and now Kurt simply wanted the conversation to cease as soon as possible so that Finn would not have to keep edging around the issue _and_ so his father would not have to get all riled up about it again. Unfortunately, before Kurt could concoct a suitable sequiter, his father's face suddenly darkened and a look of grim understanding settled into place.

"It's that kid Karofsky, isn't it?" Burt asked Finn, gravely.

Finn's eyes widened momentarily and he then glanced ostentatiously at Kurt. Kurt kept his head bent over his plate, feeling his face go red at the sudden deflection of attention from Finn unto himself.

Finn then said, "Yeah, he's the one who normally plays right guard."

Kurt glanced surreptitiously at his father, whose face looked murderous. The meal continued in a silence so tense it could have been cut with a knife. Eventually Carol started talking about her day at work and the tension dissipated somewhat but Kurt remained on the fringes of the conversation, only interjecting when absolutely necessary. His thoughts were elsewhere.

888888

Later that evening Kurt sat at his vanity table, completing his evening moisturizing routine, still lost in thought about Finn, Karofsky and his fantasy coming to fruition (sort of) when Finn walked into their room in his pajama bottoms and no top on. Kurt could only appreciate the other boy's muscular form for the briefest of moments before he realized Finn was covered in bruises.

"My god, what happened to you?" Kurt asked, turning around to face Finn full on.

Finn looked confused for a minute but then realized where Kurt was staring. Looking down at himself to examine the damage he responded, "Oh, yeah, like I said. I kept getting sacked at practice."

Kurt rushed over to him, feeling genuinely concerned. The other boy's pale white skin had big blue and purple splotches all over his arms, his shoulders, his back and his sides. It was painful just for Kurt to look at. Without thinking, he reached up and touched one of the bruises on Finn's chest while exclaiming, "You really look awful. Are you sure you're all right?"

Finn looked down at him a bit awkwardly and backed up from his touch, seeming a bit embarrassed by it. Kurt realized belatedly that he was making Finn uncomfortable and stepped back as well, saying, "Oh, sorry."

"No, don't worry about it," Finn replied. Kurt sensed the genuineness in Finn's voice and was grateful that the two of them could handle this kind of intimacy maturely, if a bit awkwardly.

"I just feel really bad," Kurt then expounded earnestly, "I mean if it hadn't been for – "

He abruptly halted his sentence. He had been about to say "If it hadn't been for me, none of this would have happened." But he realized just in time that if he said that, Finn would not understand the connection and would require further explanation. As it was Finn was looking very confused and suspicious.

"If it hadn't been for…what?" he asked Kurt.

Kurt found himself staring up at his step-brother, a guilty expression on his face. He tried to think up a lie, but somehow his mind had just gone completely blank.

"Nothing," he eventually sputtered, shaking his head dismissively. "Never mind."

Kurt quickly turned around, then, and seated himself back on his settee, in front of his large ornate make-up mirror. He instantly busied himself applying his second coat of moisturizer, glancing intermittently at Finn's reflection over his right shoulder. Finn continued to stare at him and look confused for a moment, but he eventually seemed to decide the topic was not worth pursuing and let it be.

Kurt let out a huge sigh of relief when, a moment later, Finn put on a T-shirt and proceeded out into the living room to watch something with his father. He had almost slipped up again! He really needed to learn to tread even more carefully where the subject of Dave Karofsky was concerned. Kurt had initially hoped that after he left WMHS it would no longer be a problem. But if Finn was going to continue getting put through a meat grinder at practice, Kurt's guilt was going to start throwing up red flags.

After all, in all likelihood it _was_ because of him that the other boy had bruises all over his body. And if Karofsky continued on like this, Finn was going to end up looking like a walking map of the world, with huge blue and green splotches all over his body. I mean, what if Karofsky didn't snap out it? What if Kurt being gone really messed him up? What if…

Kurt then paused, reflecting back on his last train of thought. He had been so genuinely worried about Finn he had not stopped to consider what all of this actually meant: Dave Karofsky was genuinely pinning _over him!_ How…delightful.

Kurt still found Dave's affections for him more distressing than they were appealing. But he could not deny that objectively, the situation was amusing. Out there in the world somewhere, quite close by, was a football player who acted big and tough, who pretended to hate "fags," but deep down inside was actually thoroughly distraught over Kurt, who was either heart-broken or inculcated with guilt, or both! And knowing that fact put Kurt into a very particular state of satisfied glee.


	26. Going Through the Motions

Practice had gone better today, that was for sure. Dave had still been a bit off his game but at least his showing had not been abysmal, like yesterday. That had been utterly humiliating. But he had not been able to help it.

Just as he had predicted, a couple of the Glee club members had made Kurt a topic of conversation as they had entered the locker rooms to get ready for the day's practice. Artie had asked Finn if Kurt was okay and how he was handling "the transfer." Finn had said something like, "He really misses our Glee club, but I think he is happier overall, not having to worry about constantly being harassed."

Finn had stopped there, having seen Karofsky eavesdropping on their conversation. Dave had feigned ignorance in that moment, and Finn and Artie had swiftly changed topics. But he hardly would have noticed in any event. The moment Finn had affirmed that Kurt had left, and left because of him, Dave's stomach had plummeted to the floor. Although he had 'known' that Kurt was gone, there was still something in him that had retained belief in the unlikely, that Kurt was just ditching or out with the flu.

Learning it for sure, without a semblance of doubt, had broken something within him he had not even known was there. It had felt like being completely winded, but with no hope of ever catching your breath again. It had made his stomach queasy, his chest tight and his mind completely numb. All the way through practice, it had felt to Dave as if he was in one of those dreams where nothing feels quite real and your body never moves as fast as it should. He kept blowing plays because even the basics had seemed difficult and unfamiliar to him. Finally he had been forced to just give it up for the day, sit on the bench and watch his replacement fumble through the remainder of the practice.

Later that night, for the first time in a long time, Dave had gone to bed without a throbbing ache screaming in his groin. He had just felt so utterly numb. Lying on his back in the dark he had stared at the ceiling for over an hour, feeling displaced and without anything to really look forward to in the morning. He truly had not known it until that moment, but he suddenly realized that mixed in with his dread of the on-going sexual saga between himself and Kurt, there had also been a great deal of pleasure.

Most of the time the pleasure had been drowned out because of fear and self-hatred, but it had always been there, just the same. And as much horror as that pleasure might have given him, it had also, he was shocked to discover, given him one of his most compelling reasons to get out of bed every day. He may have hated wanting Kurt so badly, but the wanting itself had never ceased to be deeply viscerally compelling. Now the one who compelled had thoroughly rejected him, and the pleasure seemed to have fractured and dissipated in his absence. Without that firm locus that had consolidated Dave's desire, formed the focal point of its solicitations, the desire itself had lost its' gravitational pull, its' reason for being.

Some part of that desire still stirred within him, of course, but now it had nothing to really attach itself to and Dave could override it easily. Which used to be what he had wanted…or so he thought. Now he was not sure what it was that he wanted, from Kurt or himself. He never imagined he would miss feeling that overpowering sexual craving, never thought having control over it would make him feel so…empty. But it did. He felt empty without the molten heat that had inflamed him beyond reason or sense, almost beyond the capacity to breathe. He had hated it while it was there, but he suddenly discovered he missed it, now that it was all but gone.

So Dave had gotten up the next morning – that morning – and finally had the morning he had, for so long, longed for: one in which thoughts of Kurt did not make him ache and stroke and cum harder than was probably healthy. He had succeeded in being rid of his desire, momentarily at least. And no success had ever made him feel so deadened and hollow inside. Numbness had replaced unbridled yearning and the difference had been depressing beyond measure. Dave had spent the last year trying to put that raging fire out but now that it was, all that he wanted was to have it back.

And the worst part of it was that it was entirely his fault. If he had not pursued Kurt so relentlessly, not treated him so abysmally, had had the courage to stand up to his friends and tell them to leave Kurt alone, maybe the other boy would still be around. In the end, he had only himself to blame and he knew it. Which had made Puck's remarks in the locker room today stab all that much deeper.

Fortunately no one had really noticed because Puck had proceeded to try to convert more members of the football team into joining that Glee club, and that had been far more deserving of ridicule than Dave Karofsky backing down from an affront. Normally if someone like Puck had said that Dave was number one for him to "go all death-star on," Dave would have taken up the challenge immediately, fought the guy then and there. But because it had been about Kurt, Dave had only managed to shrink back into the background, let Azimio take over and just go along with the crowd.

Having someone openly blame him for Kurt's absence had been shockingly painful and Dave could only be grateful it had happened when, and where, and in the way that it did. The circumstance had deflected attention from him, allowed his remorse to go completely unnoticed, for which he had been immensely grateful. That would have been nearly impossible to explain.

However, there was also a small part of Dave that wanted someone to see his pain, recognize his remorse. He wanted a confessor, someone to confide all his sins to, someone who could listen to his whole story without judgment, give advice and still remain obligated never to tell anyone else. He desperately wanted another person's input on the situation, and he also simply wanted to explain to someone how he was really feeling. It was just utterly exhausting, having to hide and pretend and play act _**ALL THE TIME**_.

It was wearing Dave down, all the constant posturing and lying, the façade of manly bravado. Frankly it was beginning to feel a bit absurd. The only reason he continued to do it was because he had no idea of any other way to be. Being honest would have meant completely dislodging himself from everything he knew, everything that was even remotely familiar to him. That prospect was filled with too much uncertainty and Dave could not bring himself to face it. He had no idea where he would end up or who would be on his side when he got there, if anyone at all would be. It would have meant leaving what he knew to throw himself headlong into totally foreign terrain. He just was not strong enough to face that. Yet.

However, he could not deny that that prospect was also growing more appealing every day. Admittedly it was still utterly terrifying, but Kurt's abrupt departure had caused him to start seriously considering it more and more. At the very least he was strongly contemplating coming out to someone else very soon, if only because he was desperate to have at least one person with whom he could be honest. Of course he could not tell any of his friends. That would be instant social suicide. And his family would have made too big a thing about it. There were actually only two people who seemed like even remote possibilities: Finn and the red-headed school councilor lady.

Dave knew Finn did not like him very much, mainly because of the Kurt incident. But he also knew Finn was completely cool with Kurt and so telling him did not present the risk of being ridiculed that telling pretty much any other guy at school did. He also knew that Finn was a nice guy and he would keep Dave's secret, if Dave asked him to. The only trouble was concocting an opportunity to talk Finn alone. They did not exactly hang out in the same social circles and asking to speak to him in private in almost any circumstance would have seemed really weird.

It would not have been all that weird for him to ask to speak to the councilor lady, and Dave was sure she's be completely nice about it, but the main problem there was that her office walls were made entirely of glass. Other people would see him sitting in there talking to her, and that would be very difficult to explain. What could he say he was getting counseling for that would not solicit some ridicule?

Dave continued to have this internal debate more and more these days. It was an almost constant refrain in his head. He really desperately wanted to tell somebody, but there just wasn't anyone he could tell without it being problematic in one way or another.

Dave felt trapped, caught in the set pattern of his life, yet also feeling more and more estranged from it every day. It was as if he was simply going through the motions, a marionette moving through the world, pulled by the strings of peer pressure, fear, habit and a dearth of other options. Those combined forces seemed to animate all his movements and he was just a pathetic puppet to them, lacking the strength to break free, or the insight to know how.

But something was going to give soon. He could feel it. Because although he knew he was not strong enough to be honest yet, he also knew he did not have the strength to keep up the lies indefinitely either. Something was going to give and all Dave could hope was that when the ground finally caved underneath him, he would be able to find his footing again, sooner or later, perhaps with someone else to help guide the way.


	27. The Jacket in the Closet

Kurt felt a bit silly, sitting in his locked car in the WMHS parking lot. He needed to get into the school to see Rachel; he wanted her expert opinion on his audition solo. But Kafosky's car was still parked in the lot, and Kurt was not about to simply walk right onto campus and invite another confrontation with his ex-stalker. He realized that, rationally, his odds of actually encountering Karofsky were minimal; however, he did not exactly feel like risking it, either.

Weirdly, his anxiety did not steam from a fear of being hurt or harassed so much as from a feeling of profound uncertainty. Kurt did not know for sure, given Karofsky's wildly unpredictable moods, but he imagined that if they were to encounter each other again, the other boy was actually not particularly likely to assault him. In fact, if anything Karofsky was most likely to just be very awkward and embarrassed. A prospect which made Kurt more uncomfortable than the thought of simply being insulted or shoved.

Kurt did not want to have to face Karofsky while the state of their relationship was so unclear. After all, the last time he had actually seen the other boy it had been in the principal's office, as Dave had walked away from him looking genuinely remorseful. Kurt had strong reason to believe, as well, that Dave was actually missing him around the halls of WMHS, and not just in his capacity as a punching bag. Unless Dave was surrounded by a group of his friends, he really was not all that likely to mistreat Kurt. And honestly, knowing that scared Kurt a lot more than prospect of enduring some routine abuse.

He hated contemplating what would happen if the two of them were to casually run into each other. At first, both would have that deer-in-the-headlights look of pure surprise. Then they would exchange a loaded glance while each panickedly contemplated the best way to handle the situation. Then, one of two things would happen: either they would just silently walk away, OR one of them would say something.

Kurt could handle the walking away option, but if Karofsky started talking, that just might be Kurt's final undoing. Because as likely as not, Dave _would_ try to be nice. He would try to apologize, to explain why it was that he had been such a colossal jerk. He might even ask for Kurt's forgiveness, perhaps expect Kurt's sympathy…and Kurt, as likely as not, would end up giving Karofsky exactly what he wanted.

Kurt told himself he wanted the other boy to suffer, to drown in guilt, to be tormented with constant regrets and thoughts of lost opportunities. He did NOT want to absolve Karofsky. But he just knew if the other boy was stood right in front of him, issuing a genuine apology, he would not have the strength to reject it either. Resistance would be futile in the face of his former tormentor saying "I'm sorry," with earnest remorse.

Most of the time Kurt told himself he did not want to forgive Karofsky. But that was not exactly true. The real truth was that he did not want to _want_ to forgive Karofsky, even though he did. Kurt wished he was callous enough to just let the other boy suffer, let him wallow in his own pain. But in reality he was not a vindictive person, much as he currently wished otherwise. He also did know what it was like to be in Dave's position, at least in terms of the fear of coming out.

In spite of all that had happened since Karofsky had first kissed him – the creepy come-ons, getting tossed around like a rag doll, the death threats – Kurt still did have a certain amount of sympathy for the position the other boy was in. Thinking back on his first conversation with Blaine about it, he remembered what Blaine had said about how much harder it would be for someone like Karofsky to come out, because of the way the world saw him. Absolutely nothing about Dave even remotely suggested he might be gay. And Kurt was not simple-minded enough to imagine it was just because Dave was hiding it all away.

Kurt did not believe for one second that other boy secretly listened to Cher or did Liza Minnelli impressions in front of his mirror when nobody else was home. It was not as if Dave _deliberately_ lowered his voice when he talked, or intentionally modulated his very masculine walk. He was not consciously reigning in his hand gestures, nor did he dress like a moronic frat-boy purely as a cover. And he _certainly_ did not play football simply to deflect suspicion. All of it was quite genuine, in Kurt's estimation. All of that _was_ who Dave really was.

The problem was that he really was gay, too. Dave's attraction to men was just as real as his attraction to football, it was just as genuine as his walk and his talk and his lack of fashion sense. And that put Dave in a very difficult position indeed. Because somehow, and Kurt was quite baffled really as to how, all of those things that David did, the ways he moved through the world, had somehow obtained the 'mark' of straightness. Everything about the other boy just reeked of heterosexuality, even though Kurt knew there was no genuine connection between being heterosexual and liking football, or hating show tunes or speaking in a low register.

Somehow the world had forged connections between those things where none actually existed, and Dave now appeared comically, tragically stuck in the middle, bizarrely suspended between his sexuality and the everything-else that made him who he was. Kurt did not envy the other boy his dilemma, that was for sure. When Dave finally did come out (as was inevitable) people would no doubt accuse him of lying. They would not doubt act as if Dave had deliberately, sinisterly deceived them all, as if _he_ had been the one cultivating all the assumptions.

But Kurt had now come to realize that Dave was not the one creating those assumptions in other people's minds at all. _Other people_ were creating those assumptions in their _own _minds and applying them without consent. In reality, Dave did not have any more control over being read as straight than Kurt had over being read as gay.

Of course, Dave _could_ have taken on a different walk, a different talk, started listening to Lady Gaga. But that was not who he was and – as surprised as Kurt was about having this conviction – he was adamant that Karofsky should not _have_ to change who he was just because he happened to be gay. The other boy should not be forced to give up football, should not be expected to dress a certain way or express himself in a certain way just because he happened to like other boys. That wasn't fair. It wasn't right, and the world did not have the right to demand it of him.

But they would. The minute Karofsky fessed up and walked out of the closet, he would no doubt be stripped of a great many things that gave his life meaning, including that ugly letterman jacket he so loved. Karofsky got that jacket in the closet; the moment he stepped out of it, his right to wear the privileged garment would be swiftly and cruelly revoked. He would be asked to hand it over, along with almost everything that made him _him_. All so everybody around him could keep the tidy little boxes in their brains neatly intact. It was pathetic and it was sad.

And it had also forced Kurt toward the very difficult understanding that being honest about your sexuality was not always as freeing as people made it sound. Coming out might, indeed, be liberating for some people, but for others, he had concluded, it actually resulted in _more_ restraint, _more_ confinement. And Dave Karofsky was indubitably one of those people. Coming out, for him, would probably result in the other boy feeling more caged, more trapped, _more_ deprived of his sense of self.

Yes Karofsky was gay…but he was a lot of other things too. And if he was forced to give up all those other things, just so he could be honest about being gay, was that really Karofsky being "true" to himself? Resistant as Kurt was to his conclusion he had ultimately decided, no. Coming out for Karofsky would mean having to sacrifice too much of what made him him, and it was not fair of Kurt to expect that he do that.

After all, Kurt asked himself, what if being honest about his sexuality had had the potential to force him out of Glee club? What if he had suddenly been expected to wear ugly baggy clothes, and walk around like an ape with his pants falling down? What if the world had told him only straight men sing and dance and use face moisturizer, and he was suddenly no longer allowed to do those things because he was gay? Would he have come out, in that alternate reality?

Kurt honestly did not know the answer. He did know that posing those questions to himself made his stomach hurt. The thought of having to give up so much of himself in order to be honest about his sexuality was a truly painful hypothetical for Kurt to contemplate. It may not have been Sophie's Choice, but it was a horrible decision to have to consider nonetheless. Lucky for him, it _was_ only a hypothetical; for Dave, on the other hand, it was the decision he faced on a daily basis.

No, Kurt did not envy the other boy one bit. So when he saw the object of his contemplations walking through the parking lot, his red jacket perfectly fitted to his bulky frame, Kurt felt a mixture of vestigial anger coupled with sympathy and a genuine regret that he was not brave enough to face that inevitably awkward encounter.

If the truth was being told, Kurt was no longer particularly afraid of the other boy, although he was perfectly content to let others go on thinking he was. What he _was_ afraid of was the other boy's pain. He did not want to have to face it, did not want to have to deal with it. Kurt did not want Karofsky's pain to become his problem, and if he encountered Karofsky again, at least in the near future, he had the strong premonition that it would indeed become his problem. He used to be afraid of the other boy hurting him…now he was just afraid of the other boy hurting.


	28. The Anger & the Apathy

Dave didn't care about football anymore. He didn't care about much of anything anymore. Except being angry all the time. Before Kurt had left, Dave had channeled all his feelings – violent as well as pinning – towards him. The other boy had borne the brunt of Dave's angst, acting like a release valve for all his fears and desires. Now that Kurt was gone, his emotional turbulence had no consolidated target and it seemed to be spraying everywhere, coming in fits and spurts and landing on absolutely everyone in the vicinity.

It had happened _again_ today during the football game. Finn had gathered the team together for a huddle, right before they were about to win. And he had done exactly what a team captain is supposed to do: congratulated his teammates on a job well done. However, Dave had not been able to share in their joy at winning, because football, it seemed, no longer made him happy. Nothing made him happy, anymore, and that had just made him so fucking angry… angry enough to spout the words that had started it all.

"Maybe we should all break out and do a song after we win," he had suggested mockingly, as the other boys were smiling and nodding, all of them clearly self-satisfied at Finn's praise.

Dave had just wanted the game to be over so he could go home and hole himself up in his room, a refuge he was availing himself of with greater and greater frequency of late. However, in retrospect, Dave acknowledged it probably would have been more expedient just to keep his mouth shut. His off-the-cuff comment had set off a chain reaction which had culminated in massive rift within the football team being torn wide open.

The whole thing had begun to snowball the minute Finn responded to his sarcasm.

"Shove it Karofsky."

"No freaking way. I figure if I stay on you you'll run away like your little butt buddy Hummel."

It was one of those moments when Dave honestly could not believe the words were coming out of his mouth. He had listened, detached, as if another person entirely was speaking them, and he was just a mute bystander, as surprised as everyone else by the content of what was escaping his lips. Statements like that just kept coming up and out of his mouth these days; "word vomit," to borrow a particularly apt phrase.

And Dave knew instantly he would regret immensely the contents of this particular verbal up-chuck. Finn was still pretty pissed off about the whole Kurt situation, and Dave knew that both he and Finn had very short fuses where the subject of the other boy was concerned. Indeed, Finn had responded to his comment with such pointed insight, Dave had been half convinced, momentarily, Finn actually knew the truth about him. After all, he and Kurt did live together.

"That's funny Karofsky, how you're calling everybody gay all the time but you never seemed to have a girlfriend."

If it had not had been for the other guys, Dave probably would have socked Finn then and there, with a whole stadium of people watching, not to mention the other team and their coach. But as the other boys had held him back, Dave had angled at Finn only to glimpse an expression of sincere shock on the other boy's face. Dave quickly gathered that his team captain and fellow classmate still had absolutely no idea he really was gay, despite what he had just said. He would not have looked so earnestly surprised by Dave's reaction if he did. At that point, Dave regained just enough self-control to change his strategy.

"Really hope that linebacker doesn't get the jump on me. I bet it would hurt like hell to get sacked by him," Dave had threatened, with soft menace.

Finn had looked scared then, and Dave was in no doubt as to why. Finn had taken a serious beating in that practice he had abysmally fumbled, right after Kurt had transferred to his new school. Dave knew his mistakes had left the other boy black and blue all over, and Finn was not likely to forget that in a hurry. Which was probably why he had looked so utterly terrified at Dave's threat, and ultimately why the team had lost the game.

He had not actually planned to let Finn get sacked. He did not want to be blamed for the team losing, even if he, himself, didn't really care if they won or lost. But his threat had apparently psyched Finn up so much that he had ended up fumbling the play himself. So they had lost anyway.

And then came the locker room. God, that had been awful. Coach Beiste had demanded to know what the hell happened out there and Finn had been all too ready to oblige her.

"Karofsky sucks! That's what happened!"

"That's crap. Hudson's a freaking girl and couldn't take a joke about his precious Glee club."

"Because I'm sick of you guys getting down on us for it. We're in Glee club, what's the big deal?"

"It's embarrassing," one of his team members had piped up. "We're dudes. Getting all hot and bothered about singing a Ke$ha song. It's freaking weird."

Dave had been grateful that someone else had openly taken up his side. He knew he had been overly confrontational these past few weeks, particularly with regard to the Glee club, and he worried sometimes that his abnormally excessive antipathy was starting to show.

With the argument no longer between himself and Finn, other people had started jumping into the fight as well. Puck had joined the fray by rebutting, "Well maybe you'll think it's cooler when I go all tick-tock on your face."

"Bring it, Puckerman," Dave had rebuked, getting up in Puck's face.

Predictably, things had gotten physical then though, fortunately, they did not get far enough to descend into an actual fist fight. Not that Dave cared all that much about a fight, per se. Hell, he would have welcomed the chance to blow off some steam in a good brawl. But any real violence and there would have been disciplinary action, and parent teacher conferences and Dave was in no mood at the moment to deal with adults meddling in his life. So instead of ending in blows to the face, the fight had ended with an ultimatum.

"Look, championship game or not, I am _not_ blocking for him," Dave had told Coach Beiste.

He had meant it, too. He did not care enough anymore to try and get along with Finn. The truth was that the other boy, more than anyone else, reminded him of Kurt and even after months of them being apart, Dave's pain over the separation was still incredibly raw. Being around Finn just felt like someone rubbing salt into his gaping wound.

It was true that, for a while, he had honestly considered coming out to Finn. But the longer Kurt had stayed absent from his life, the more irrationally angry Dave had begun to feel about everything that remained in his life, including football and his teammates. His desire to be honest with someone had, day by day, slowly morphed into merely an overwhelming desire to smash things. And what ended up in the wreckage had stopped being of any real importance to him.

None of it really mattered anyway.


	29. The Scarlet Letterman Jacket

Dave was lying on his bed in the dark, once again thanking Karma for the utter agony of the day he had been forced to endure. Publically flogged for his supposed homophobia in front of both the Glee club _and_ the football team in the choir room this afternoon, Dave did not think he had ever felt so exposed and humiliated in his whole life.

It had all started when Azimio had suggested their half of the football team slushy Artie. Dave had not felt any particular desire to join in, but he knew that absenting himself would have been suspicious. So, like always, he went along with whatever his friends wanted to do. When was he going to learn that that _never _ended well?

In response to the ostentatious assault, Coach Beiste and Mr. Shuester had tried to merge the two groups together, the football team and the Glee club, with predictably disastrous results, particularly for him.

Coach Beiste had cleverly instructed the football team to report to the choir room without telling them anything about why. Which, in retrospect, made perfect sense. If they had known she was going to demand they all join the Glee club for one week, they would never have shown up in the first place. But once they were already there, there had been no escape.

So Mr. Shuester had magnanimously "welcomed" them as the newest members of Glee club, with the result being that everyone, in both the Glee club and on the football team, went into instant hysterics. The outrage had been explosive on both sides, with that Mercedes girl shouting, "Oh hell to the no," and Finn following up with "Mr. Shue, are you serious? These are the guys that made Kurt transfer."

Being told he had to join the Glee club for a week had been bad enough. But the moment Dave had heard Kurt's name mentioned, he knew things were about to get phenomenally worse. It had been just like one of those instances _right_ after you rip off a band-aid, when there is just the briefest moment of numbness before the pain really registers. And boy, did the pain register not a moment later.

"There is no way I am sharing the choir room with a known homophobe," Rachel had passionately intoned, in that diva tenor which came so naturally to her.

The minute the word "homophobe" had entered the conversation, Dave had felt his face burn and his inside violently squirm. Everyone's attention radiated towards him, like 20 or so laser-sights aimed directly at his head. He had felt inflamed with utter humiliation, and the heavy red letterman jacket, which normally felt to Dave like a protective shield, had started to feel strangely like a searing scarlet letter. He suddenly had the most eerie sense that his intense sexual shame was being transformed into a farcical spectacle, exposed for the entire world to gawk at. And it had just gotten worse from there.

Mr. Shuester had followed up Rachel's comment by saying, "I agree with you guys. But I talked to Coach Beiste about it and she and I both agree that the kind of bullying David does is borne out of ignorance."

Even at the time, Dave had felt a perverse sense of amusement about that. The irony of the accusation was comedic and tragic in equal parts. They all thought he was ignorant one here when, in reality, _they_ were the ignorant ones. He wasn't actually homophobic at all…at least not in the way they all imagined he was. None of them really had any _idea_ why he said the things he said, and did the things he did. Ignorance is funny that way, Dave had realized. People never know what it is they don't know.

"Having him in here," Mr. Shuester had continued, "as difficult as it maybe for us, is an opportunity to show him and the rest of the guys that being in Glee club is kinda cool."

_That's rich_, Dave had thought. Apparently they were all going to enlighten him, when, in point of fact, none of them actually had any idea at all what this was really about anyway. All these people were fumbling around in the dark, and they somehow thought _they _were going to lead_ him_ into the light? Yeah, whatever.

Coach Beiste had then said they were all required to participate in Glee club for one week, "No exceptions."

By then Dave's intense discomfort had given way to simple annoyance about the whole thing. He did not take kindly to being forced into something he did not want to do. So he had tried to call the coach's bluff. That, however, had been a mistake, for no sooner had Dave made his argument – "She's bluffing. Next week is the championship game. Without us she had no team" – than Coach Beiste had responded "_With_ you I have no team."

That had felt a bit like a smack in the face, mostly because Dave knew it was true. Much as he would have liked to, there was no way he could deny that their team was coming apart from the inside as a result of this rivalry, and he indubitably was the one who had stirred that pot with the most vigor. So, while he had still believed adamantly that making the football team join the Glee club was _**NOT**_ the way to unite them all, he also knew he had no place protesting it either.

Luckily Azimio was only too happy to take up that particular job.

"If I have to stay I'm not singing no show tunes. That's the music of my oppressor."

"Do you even have any idea what we do in here?" Finn had responded, scathingly.

"No, none of them do." Mr. Shuester had intoned with utter conviction. He had then invited Puck and Rachel to perform some sappy love song they had been rehearsing...as if _that_ would convince the football team this whole thing wasn't too girly for all of them.

At first, Dave had just been too annoyed by the whole situation to really listen to what they were singing. But as his two classmates had rifted through the first few lines of their song, he had started to listen against his will.

"_And I wonder if I ever cross your mind. For me it happens all the time_."

And suddenly it felt to Dave as if they had planned to sing this song solely to remind him of Kurt.

"_Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now. And I don't know how I can do without. I just need you now."_

As Dave listened begrudgingly, he suddenly heard so many of the things he had been feeling over the last few weeks radiating from Rachel and Puck's voices. It was as if they had somehow channeled all his pain and his anguish, and turned it into music. It was emotional alchemy, transforming agony into melody… and it was absolutely terrifying.

"_Another shot of whiskey, can't stop looking at the door. Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before."_

As Puck had sung those lines he had stared pointedly at Dave the entire time. Dave had honestly begun to believe Puck could actually see the memory those lyrics so uncannily evoked in his mind: the moment when Kurt had come bursting through that locker room door to shout at him, all those months ago now. And indeed, Dave _did_ find himself wishing, more and more every day, that Kurt would come sweeping back through the doors of McKinley High.

Once again, although this farce was allegedly about bringing football and Glee club together, Dave was visited by the overwhelming suspicion that that rationale was just a smoke screen for the real objective here: to personally torment him. And torment it certainly was. Every single line of lyrics, every pitch perfect note was like a fresh stab square in the chest. Dave had honestly begun to feel as if he could no longer breathe.

"_And I don't know how I can do without. I just need you now." _

As he heard the song taper off, at last, Dave felt the tightness in his chest loosen a bit and he concentrated all of his efforts on not tearing up. If he lost it and started crying, that would be the end…of everything. He could NOT let anyone see how much the music had affected him. Fortunately Azimio came to his rescue once again.

"The girl with the Mohawk had a really nice voice."

Following that comment, another fight had subsequently ensued. Dave had not really participated; he had entered the fray only to make his way across the choir room towards the exit. And for the first time that afternoon, in all the madness, nobody paid him any particular attention.

Dave had gotten out of it today, but tomorrow…tomorrow he suspected he would not get so lucky. Tomorrow fresh horrors would start to abound anew and there would be no getting out of it this time, at least not with any dignity.


	30. Breaks in the Routine

**Just want to take a moment to thank you all for reading and reviewing thus far. It is appreciated! Now back to our regularly scheduled programming. **

Dave had had a very strange day. It had not been good, exactly, but for the first time in a long time it had not been bad either. And that was a small miracle, he conceded, given the downward spiral his life had been careening along lately, and given how awful he had felt about the day when it had first started.

It had started unequivocally bad. As he had gotten dressed that morning, Dave had dejectedly pondered the fact that there had only ever been two days he had dreaded getting up for _more_ than this one: the day after he had kissed Kurt and the day of their parent-principal conference.

But today had heralded a rather different kind of horror – "Zombie Camp." He, along with the rest of the football team, was going to be forced to dance around like the undead alongside the inexplicably unself-conscious Gleeks who voluntarily subjected themselves to that kind of humiliation on a regular basis. The prospect had been horrifying to Dave in more ways than he could count. So he had made his way to the school's auditorium that afternoon feeling no small amount of trepidation.

At first, things had gone more or less as he had feared they would. As he tried to learn the basic choreography of the dance, he felt weighed down and blocked by his own body, which only seemed capable of retaining half of the steps and moves accurately at any given time. The dance captain would show them sections of the dance repeatedly, make it look so easy, and then when he tried to do it, he'd suddenly turn into a clumsy child, too stupid and uncoordinated to imitate with any precision or finesse. And, as much as he said he did not care about being a good dancer, Dave had still hated the thought that the dance might have the power to defeat him, that it could make him feel so incompetent.

Aside from his simple lack of skill, there had also been the emotional turmoil of him feeling immensely self-conscious. Learning the routine had felt like a very tenuous balancing act between not appearing too invested, and not being invested enough. On the one hand, he had not wanted to seem _too_ into it, for fear of being ridiculed by his fellow teammates as a traitor, or as gay. (And also, just because he resented the whole thing on principle.)

But he also _really_ did not want to allow himself to fall behind; if he did not at least learn to do the routine passably, he would stick out like a sore thumb during the actual performance. Then people would make fun of him not only for dancing in public, but also for doing it really badly. He had known that his best hope for getting through this with any dignity would be to try to blend in as much as possible, which required some degree of commitment to the enterprise, loathsome as he found it.

But as they had continued to rehearse throughout the afternoon, a funny thing happened to Dave somewhere along the way. At some point, something in his mind, or in his body, or both, had just clicked into place. As they continued to review the choreography, Dave's body eventually started to feel like it belonged to him again, like it had had its' rebellion and was ready to follow instructions once more. Whole sections of the dance just started to flow through his muscles and joints without him really having to think about it at all.

And stranger still was the fact that he actually knew that feeling; it was not foreign to him at all but in fact, uncannily familiar. He had had that same exact experience before, with football. When he had first started playing the game, he had felt the same incompetence, the same discord with his body as it refused to cooperate with the drills and the plays. But eventually, as Dave had practiced and stuck with it, football had begun to feel instinctual, just as the dancing had started to feel. Admittedly, Dave had thought he still probably looked fairly ridiculous dancing, but at least he had no longer felt like the dance was defeating him.

At that point, they had stopped working on the choreography itself and started working on "characterization" – not just doing the steps but doing them in a zombie-like way. That had incurred a whole different kind of discomfort in Dave. Learning the routine had just been about imitation, merely copying what someone else was doing. Characterization demanded that he add some individuality to the performance, make it his own. Once again he had been plagued by the dilemma of trying too hard versus not trying hard enough.

As he had reluctantly tried to followed Mr. Shuester's advice to "get out of his head," Dave had somehow managed to accent the routine with his own zombie-esque embellishments, stupid as he felt they were. He had been temporarily relieved when, soon after, the Glee club director had called it quits for the day, only to find himself being hailed by him not a moment later.

Dave had been sure he was about to be critiqued, a further humiliation he had not retained the energy to handle by that point in the day.

"Look, I know I'm bad. Can you just spare me so we can get through this?"

Then came perhaps the strangest part of the day, at least thus far. Mr. Shuester had taken on a look of genuine surprised and informed him, "That's not what I was going to say at all. You're actually really good."

It had been Dave's turn, then, to look surprised. The teacher had actually sounded like he meant it, like he wasn't just saying it be encouraging or supportive, or whatever. And Dave was amazed at how good it had felt to hear somebody praise him, tell him he was good at something, rather than people always getting down on him, telling him how he was doing everything wrong. That feeling had been short-lived, however.

"If you took that energy you use bullying people and put it into this…you'd be one of the most talented guys at this school."

It had irked Dave that the subject of his bullying was always being brought back into the conversation, especially since nobody even knew what it was really about. Dave was adamant that it wasn't the place of these people to be preaching to him about his social aggression, especially when they did not know the full story behind it.

However, he could not help but be moved by what Mr. Shuester had said, about him being abnormally talented. Confused and displaced as the complement had made him feel, it also made him feel engaged, compelled, interested. And that was a feeling Dave had not felt in a depressingly long time.

Ever since Kurt had left the school, Dave had been sinking deeper and deeper into a state angry apathy. He got up most mornings feeling like he no longer had anything really worth getting up for. Football had lost its' appeal, and while his friends made him feel socially safe, hanging out with them was no longer really any fun. In fact, as often as not, they just made him feel more and more alienated and isolated. And Dave only continued to worry about school because it mattered to his parents and he didn't want them breathing down his neck all the time.

But he didn't actually _care_ about any of it; none of that stuff moved him or compelled him anymore. Once Kurt had gone, Dave's obsession with the other boy had become entirely moot and, subsequently, he had moved on to living his life more or less like an automaton on some gruesome repeat loop: get up, go to school, slushy people, go to football practice, call other guys "gay", go home, eat dinner, do homework, go to bed, repeat. It had been a soul deadening routine, sapping him of any authentic engagement with the world.

But now, somehow, that wanting and caring had been sparked in him once more. The repeat loop had been disrupted by his forced entry into the Glee club and, as inconceivable as it was, as a result of this disruption, Dave was beginning to remember what it felt like to desire things again…and to really care about the things you were doing. Admittedly that feeling scared him; investment always brought with it the possibility of disappointment and failure. But the risk was also part of the appeal, the danger part of the draw.

Dave was terrified of the way dancing made him feel: good. He was also terrified about where that pleasure would lead him. Who and what would he become if he pursued it? The question scared him…but it also compelled him. He wanted to find out, he wanted to test this new talent of his, he wanted to see where it might take him, but more than all of that he just _wanted_ something, again…_finally!_

Dave had spent the past few months walking around the world, looking normal on the outside and feeling like a zombie on the inside. Ironically, the moment he had started to externalize that inner death, was precisely the moment he had started to feel alive again, back in sync with his body and reconnected to his world.

And those small strands of reconnection, to the people around him and to his own sense of pleasure compelled him to seek stronger connections. Which was what had given him the strength to make his uncharacteristic suggestion to Finn a little later on that day.

"I need to talk to you" he had said as Finn had hesitantly begun applying his zombie make-up.

"Can we not fight just for one day, man? It's already hard enough not to kick you in the nuts every time I see you."

Dave had completely disregarded Finn's anger; he knew it was justified and he had not wanted to fight with the other boy anymore.

"You think maybe we should do a warm up number or something before we do that big Thriller thing at half-time?"

As Finn had gazed at him, stunned, Dave knew he would have to offer up some 'explanation' for his proposal, so he continued by arguing, "You know. I figure the only way I'm going to keep any street cred around here after dancing around like an idiot in front of the whole school is if we kick ass at it."

As the words fell off his tongue, Dave knew he sounded convincing. Huh, maybe he really did have some talent for this performing thing after all.

And sure enough Finn, still looking and sounding a bit confused said, "Um, yeah. Couldn't agree more."

It was the response Dave had been looking for. However, he had to admit he had not exactly felt entirely relieved by it either. He had committed himself to something that had the potential to go so very wrong in so very many ways and the trepidation he felt towards it was considerable.

Yet nervous as it made him to stick his neck out like this, he had to concede that it still felt better than just being angry all the time. And he could not deny that, especially if it went well, he had a real opportunity to patch things up with Finn…which could eventually lead to somehow patching things up with Kurt.

Dave knew it would be a long, winding, extremely bumpy road toward becoming square with Kurt again. He knew that even if fate eventually presented him with the chance, Kurt was just as likely as not to tell him to shove his apology up his ass. And _he_ was just as likely as not to royally blow the apology by saying something idiotic before Kurt even had the chance to reject it.

But there was only one way to find out, and Dave knew that one way was most probably through Finn. Fate had provided him a golden opportunity with this Glee club business to get back on Finn's good side, and as scared as he was about taking the opportunity, Dave was even more scared of letting it pass him by.

If there was one emotion Dave had been plagued by of late, besides anger and apathy, it was regret. He was so damn tired of all the 'what ifs' running like a broken record through his head. He did not want this moment to become yet another one.

All those vicious cycles, they had desperately needed disrupting; this day had been the start of that. All was not well yet. Far from it. But for the first time in a long time, all was not bad either. And as Dave changed into his pajamas in preparation for bed, he realized that, for the first time in months, the thought of getting up the next day did not thoroughly depress him.


	31. Lessons in Gambling

Dave desperately wanted to drive home, but his eyes were still burning from being slushied. Sat in his car, still parked in the school's front lot, Dave adjusted his rear-view mirror to get a proper look at himself. His eyes were an inflamed pulsing red, though that was probably as much from the scarlet food coloring he had had dumped on him as it was from his eyes being irritated and bloodshot as a result of it.

He looked like a sullen child, like a big angry cry-baby, which was more or less how he felt at the moment. His tantrum in the locker room, not fifteen minutes ago, had been truly infantile. Even at the time, Dave had known he sounded like a petulant toddler. But his anger and disappointment had been so irrationally strong he had not been able to reign in the pathetic outburst.

And the truly sad thing was that the day had started off so well. He and Finn had met up before homeroom to decide on a song for their warm-up number and they had both recognized the brilliance of the Zombie's "She's Not There" the minute Finn had suggested it. The two of them had spread the word about it to their football comrades during morning classes and spent all of lunch choreographing and rehearsing it. Finn and Mike had done most of the work putting the dance together, but Dave as well as a few of the others had made small contributions here and there.

Dave had enjoyed it even more than the previous day's rehearsal of Thriller. Doing the warm-up number had been his idea and putting it together had been a communal effort, rather than something forced down their throats by a teacher. As a result, they had all felt a strong sense of ownership for the dance; they had planned it and put it together entirely on their own. That meant it belonged to them in a way Thriller just didn't and, as a consequence, they had all felt very protective of the piece.

Dave supposed that was why they had all felt such elation at Mr. Shuester's wildly enthusiastic praise. The joyous relief he and all his teammates had felt when the choir director had intoned "Awesome!" with such sincerity had been viscerally palpable. They had been proud of their creation and to have that sense of pride externally affirmed had produced in them a strong feeling of, well, glee.

However, Dave now recognized that that overwhelming sense of pleasure had been precisely the fuse that lit the fire that had burned it all out. Riding the high from their unequivocal success, he and his teammates had started cruising the school in their zombie make-up, unabashedly flaunting their newly formed Football-Glee alliance. They had all felt so momentarily happy, so wonderfully in step with one another, they had forgotten to be afraid of how it looked to everyone else. Their success had made them feel invincible and untouchable, but unfortunately, it had not actually made them either one, as they were to immanently discover.

They had not walked 100 feet down the halls before they had been blockaded by the school's hockey team. Dave had not felt at all intimidated at first. With the whole team surrounding him, everyone in their undead make-up, he had examined the hockey players almost with a sense of pity. They had no idea what they were missing.

That temporary confidence Dave had maintained, about the security of their place in the high school hierarchy, had led to the unthinking comment that had sent the encounter into a downward spiral. Finn had rightfully reminded the mob of mullets that "football rules this school," only to have one of them reply: "Maybe, but not after you make dancing fools of yourselves during that half-time show. You know it, we know it, the whole school knows it."

"They'll think differently after they see it," Dave had rejoined with utter assurance. "It's going to be awesome."

"Holy crap, they turned Karofsky gay."

How quickly we forget, Dave had realized then, once we are on the inside of something, how it looks to people on the outside. He truly and sincerely had forgotten, lost amidst the pool of straight guys dancing around him, that to everyone else this whole thing still looked really gay. It had felt a punch in the stomach to be reminded of that, not the least because ironically, as he had become more and more actively involved in Glee, the less and less "gay" Dave had actually felt.

Getting along with Finn and all the guys in the show choir, as well as all his old football friends, had actually made Dave feel a lot more normal and a lot less alienated than he had felt in recent months. Participating in these dance routines had strangely made him feel like he was just another one of the guys, as if he was no different from the rest of them. As they had all gotten on board with this dancing thing, the issue of sexuality had swiftly fallen entirely by the wayside. They had all been having too much fun to remember that what they were doing was actually really queer.

That was the truly funny thing about all of this, Dave realized. His resistance to the Glee club had largely been predicated on how gay it looked and how gay he thought it would make_ him_ look. He had been terrified that participating in earnest would firmly and forever consolidate his place as the homo he was so desperately trying _not _to be seen as. But the very moment he had taken up that supposedly queer position – which he had so dreaded – had actually been the moment the queerness of it had seemed to evaporate entirely. Rather than making him feel more consigned to his place in the sexual schema, the Glee club had ironically made Dave feel distinctly freed from it. It wasn't that being in Glee had made him feel straight, necessarily; it had just made him feel like it did not matter, like it was completely irrelevant.

What a horrifying and desperately disappointing thing to have obtained that sense of normalcy only to have it so harshly and cruelly revoked. It had felt like a bucket of cold water dumped directly on his head…or perhaps an extra-large slushy tossed right into the face. Dave could now vouch for that personally.

The physical shock of the icy cold deluge had been just as jarring as the emotional shock of being so thoroughly publically denigrated. And even though it _was_ just ice and red dye number 7, Dave had felt infected by it, contaminated in some truly irrevocable way. As he had washed himself off in the locker room showers, Dave had felt as if, no matter how hard he scrubbed, the sticky stuff just would not come off.

However, even at the time, some part of him had recognized that that feeling persisted not because he actually still had dyed sugar water stuck to him, but because what he was trying to wash away was not really corn syrup and food coloring, it was the stigma, the shame, the abject humiliation. That was the truly sticky stuff which no amount of hot water and soap could rid him of.

The rest of the Glee guys had not been particularly helpful either, with Finn just telling him to "relax" and Artie informing him calmly that he was just "in the first stage of loser-dom: denial."

Dave had not understood how they could be so calm about the whole thing. They watched him clean himself off with these looks on their faces, like his intense revulsion was just a silly overreaction. They clearly had had no idea how profoundly sullied the experience had made him feel, or they would not have been so impassive and nonchalant about it. Dave was determined that he would never be made to feel that way _ever_ again, and there was only one way to ensure that.

"I'm quitting Glee club," he announced to them.

"No you're not," Coach Beiste had interjected. "Fact is covered in ice and red dye number 7, you guys looked more like a team than you ever have out on that field."

"I don't care," Dave had responded, with complete and utter sincerity. "I'm out."

"Then you're off the team."

That had given Dave pause. Despite his overwhelmingly sour disposition toward everything, including football, of late, he had still retained some degree of investment in winning the championship. Through everything else, that _had_ continued to matter to him, if only in a distant, intermittent sort of way. And so rather than surrendering outright, Dave had tried to black mail his way out of Glee.

"If we quit you'll barely have enough guys to play next week. It's the championship game, you're not going to throw that away."

"Try me," she had challenged.

That had not been the response Dave wanted to hear, but he was not exactly surprised by it either. He knew their coach had an iron will, and that she was not the sort of person to be moved by threats. But Dave was also not the sort of person to make empty threats, any more than she was.

At that point Finn had interjected.

"Don't do this," he had begged. "If we stand together and do the half-time show, we can win this game and be kings of this place."

The crucial word Finn had forgotten to include in his statement was "maybe." Dave knew there was no guarantee that they would win the game. And even if they did, there was still no guarantee it would immune them from social ridicule for their song-and-dance half-time display. Neither of those possibilities were gambles Dave had been willing to take.

"Good luck with that," he had told Finn, as he and most of the rest of his teammates exited the locker room.

Dave was quite sorry, indeed, they would not be making a run for the football championship. But sitting in his truck, his eyes no longer stinging, his shirt no longer damp, he still felt like he had made the right call. Dave wanted to play, that was certainly true; but he wanted his dignity more. If he had to give up one, he'd give up football every time.

In fact, Dave realized, he would give up pretty much anything in his life to command unwavering respect from his peers. The pleasures of football, of Glee club, of…kissing other guys…they were short-lived, fleeting and unreliable. Respect could be counted on. Dave's experience both with Kurt and with the Glee club had taught him that pleasure was a volatile thing, and trusting it did not always work out. In fact it almost never did.

Dave had once heard somewhere that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. The last two times he had pursued his own pleasure in spite of his misgivings about it, he had been soundly trounced for it. Pleasure, he had learned, could not be trusted. Respect could. Walking tall and carrying a big stick may not have ever made him happy, but it had also never gotten him a slushy in the face either.

And with that depressing conclusion reached, Dave could feel the familiar numbness of apathy descending on him once more. Football, Glee club, Kurt…none of it was worth caring about. His gambles where all of those things were concerned had not paid off, and Dave knew the smart thing to do now was simply to quit while he was behind. After all he assured himself, as he placed his keys in the ignition and started the car, you can't be a loser if you simply refuse to play the game.


	32. Omissions & Intermissions

Kurt had been quiet on the car ride home, too quiet. Blaine had noticed, asking him in that earnest, concerned tone if everything was okay. Kurt had hurriedly assured him that everything was fine. And that answer had been, more or less, the truth. However, something about their meeting with Rachel and Mercedes still just wasn't sitting right with him.

The news of the football mellow-drama at McKinley had come as a complete shock to him. And Kurt had a very hard time believing the _only_ reason he had been kept in the dark about it was Finn's pride. There had to be more to it than that. There just had to be.

Even _if _Finn assumed Kurt had no continued interest in his former school, or football, it still struck him as odd that the other boy had neglected to tell their parents about it. The ups and downs of the Titans season this year had been a regular topic of conversation between Finn and his father, and Carol was forever trying to get Finn to tell her more about his life. Something like the complete implosion of the entire football team would certainly warrant a _mention_ at some point, to at least one if not both of them.

Finn also was not the sort of person who was normally in the habit of keeping silent about such things. Mostly, Kurt acknowledged, because the other boy was a complete open book, whether he wanted to be or not. Finn had no knack for subtlety and very little skill in the way of deception. Keeping something like this on the down-low had clearly been something into which he had put a great deal of forethought and effort. And that made Kurt strongly suspect that there was more to this story than just what Rachel and Mercedes knew, or what they had told him.

He had a strong suspicion, as well, what that something might be. Or rather, _who_ that something might be. If Dave Karofsky was playing even a supporting role in this little drama, Kurt understood all too well why Finn had kept it quiet. He was protecting Kurt, as well as Kurt's father, not wanting to upset them with further tales of how the boy's antics were now ruining his life, too. And Kurt could not help but feel a swell of affection for his step-brother at his thoughtfulness.

However, well-meaning as his silence was, it was also undeniably frustrating for Kurt. Much as he tried to forget about Karofsky, Kurt found the other boy popped into his thoughts more often than was probably warranted, given how removed their lives had become from one another. Actually, that was a bit of an understatement; truth be told, Kurt thought about Karofsky a lot.

He wondered if Dave had found some other target to direct his homophobic self-hatred at. He wondered if Karofsky had managed to maybe find somebody else with whom he could be honest, perhaps a family member or a non-McKinley friend. He wondered if the other boy had been better behaved since his departure, or if he had perhaps gotten worse. Kurt wondered if Dave was happier with him gone. After all, he knew he reminded the other boy of his tormented sexuality and perhaps school and life were a lot less stressful for him without that constant reminding. However, Kurt also wondered if Karofsky was actually faring worse with him away. Did the other boy pine for him, did he miss him?

It worried Kurt somewhat that he so desperately wanted answers to these questions. A part of him was still convinced he should be trying to just forget Karofsky entirely. But he simply could not help feeling responsible for the other boy. Even after everything that had gone down between them, Kurt still felt an overwhelming instinct to help him. And indeed, that impulse had only grown stronger the longer he had been away from McKinley.

However, Kurt had absolutely no outlet for either his curiosity or his desire to be helpful. Aside from Blaine, no one else in his life knew about Karofsky's secret; everyone from his father to Mercedes to Rachel and Finn still thought Dave had bullied him just because he was a homophobic jerk. Therefore, any interest Kurt might express in Dave, at this point, he knew would appear completely incomprehensible, not to mention very suspicious to them. He was still adamant that he was not going to get Dave outted to anyone at McKinley and because of that, he could not get caught asking questions that would raise any red flags.

And although Karofsky used to be a primary topic of conversation between himself and Blaine, Kurt now felt this was actually the one thing he could not share with the other boy any longer. With Dave gone from his life in every material way possible, Kurt strongly sensed that continuing to dwell on him in front of his friend and crush was probably not a good idea, especially if he wanted Blaine to see him as a potential romantic partner. He knew if it looked like he was still hung up on the Karofsky drama, Blaine would likely interpret that as a sign that he was not ready or interested in pursuing a relationship with him.

It was not that Kurt's thoughts and feelings about Karofsky were necessarily romantic or sexual per se. But he did worry and wonder about the other boy _a lot_, much more than he let on and certainly much more than he probably should. Kurt was forever trying to remind himself of how miserable Dave had made his life; he worked very hard trying to convince himself that he owed the other boy nothing, that Dave's angst was no longer his problem. But no matter how hard he tried to just forget about it, Kurt's intense curiosity about his former tormentor simply would not subside.

The truth was that Kurt just desperately wanted things to be okay for Dave; he hated knowing that the other boy was in so much pain, so much unnecessary pain. There were times when he had even considered approaching the other boy on his own, and trying to perhaps council him through this. But given how unpredictable and volatile Dave's temper and behavior so often were, Kurt knew that was not a smart or safe course of action. He could never predict when Dave might be in one of his moods of irrational denial and perhaps start lashing out at him again. Helping Dave was not worth putting himself at risk.

Still, all in all, Kurt felt very unsatisfied by how their relationship had ended…well, how their relationship had left-off. Something in him simply refused to believe that their relationship was truly ended. There had been no resolution, no closure. Kurt had walked off the stage and that had been the end of Act One, but this drama was far from over. There would come an Act Two, sooner or later, of that Kurt was certain. And although he was not exactly anxious for it to start, in many ways he found the anticipation of it reassuring nonetheless.

He fundamentally needed to know that the other boy was going to be okay, he needed it with an intensity that defied rationality. Kurt knew if he allowed this situation to remain permanently unresolved, he would live his whole life plagued by regret about it. And if there was one thing he had learned from Blaine, it was about the pain regrets like this could engender.

So, although he was not currently able to face up to the prospect of helping Dave, Kurt knew it was only a matter of time. Their paths would cross again, of that he was sure, and he could only hope that when that finally happened, he was better prepared to handle the hurt he knew the other boy was still carrying around. In the mean time, Kurt was determined to make the most of this temporary intermission.

Dalton provided a much needed retreat from the constant battles of living in a homophobic world. Kurt needed that break, that rest, if only to fortify himself for the battles he knew were yet to come. They were battles he had every intention of fighting and winning, but he was not perfect and he was not invincible. Having that haven was necessary to his sanity and Kurt consoled himself with the assurance that his retreat was not surrender, it was just part of the battle plan.


	33. Muted Impulses

Dave had originally had no intention of coming to see their football team's inevitable resounding defeat in the championship game. Embittered as he was about both the football team and the Glee club, he had no desire to spend the evening watching the one and then the other perform while he was forced to sit in the stands and abstain. It was masochistic in the extreme.

But Azimio and the other guys had been determined that they should all go. Something about wanting to gloat, show how McKinley football was totally lost without all of them. They were clearly hoping Beiste would get so desperate to win in the final hour that she would allow them back on the team, sans the half-time performance requirement. Dave had known that was a pipe dream but at the very last second, he had decided to tag along anyway.

Worst case scenario he'd have to watch some embarrassingly bad football. Best case scenario, Beiste would relent and actually allow them to play. Going was ultimately a safer gamble than not going, Dave had concluded. And he could always leave before the half-time show started. That, more than anything else, was the thing Dave really wanted to avoid anyway.

There would always be other chances to play football, and returning to it after all of this blew over presented no risk of ridicule. Thriller, on the other hand, was a one-time thing and he would never be able to return to dancing without hearing that awful voice echoing in his ear: "Holy crap, they turned Karofsky gay." Dave was determined to get the hell out of that stadium long before Santana sang her opening notes and he was forced to relive not only the agony of that insult but also the continued underlying impulse to join in.

But they had a while yet, before he needed to worry about that. The team was still on the first play of their first quarter. Which, predictably, their side had fumbled massively. After all, they were technically down a few players and, figuratively, down more than a few players. Dave had to admit, he had not seen this particular turn of events coming at _all_.

Before finding their current seats in the stands, Dave and the other guys had passed Finn down on the field.

"It's not too late," he had said to them, as he was completing his warm up routine.

"To commit social suicide?" Dave had replied scathingly. "How the hell are you going to play with five guys? Huh?"

That was when he saw them and realized what the new team strategy was. Four of the girls from the Glee club were walking onto the field dressed in the full uniform and gear.

"You have got to be kidding me," Dave had intoned, genuinely shocked by the sight of it.

"What the hell are they doing?" Azimio had asked, as the girls made their way proudly toward the huddle.

"What you don't have the balls to," Finn had replied.

Dave couldn't deny that Finn had a fair point. The girls had taken a serious risk in doing this, in multiple ways. First, there was just the risk of embarrassment; girls playing football was almost as mock-worthy as guys dancing to showtunes. Second, there was the very real possibility that one of them could get seriously injured. Guys _his_ size often took skull-cracking hits in these games, and some of those girls were slighter than even the scrawniest kickers Dave had ever seen play. It was almost inevitable that one or a number of them would sustain injuries during the game, a prospect which was actually making Dave very nervous, though he would never admit it.

And all of this was on top of the fact that, perhaps apart from Lauren, none of them had the slightest idea what they were doing. In order to help their fellow Glee club members, these girls had literally thrown themselves head-long at the last minute into something that was completely unfamiliar to them, something that was both dangerous to them physically and which would likely expose them to even more ridicule than they currently endured. And Dave could not help but feel a very begrudging admiration for them. They clearly did not let their fear control them…unlike him. But more than anything he just resented them, first for being braver than he was and second because, well, they got to play.

As Dave continued to watch the game unfold, he found himself sitting farther and farther forward in his seat, his body involuntarily anticipating plays. It was amazing how instinctual it was to him now, how automatic; he could no more have turned it off than he could turn off the impulse to breathe. The game was inside of him, and it was a herculean struggle to have to sit in the stands and restrain it. It felt deeply unnatural and painfully confining. Frankly, it just felt wrong.

As a means of distracting himself, Dave deliberately turned his attention away from the game and moved it towards the crowd. That's when he saw the other boy. Sitting about five rows behind them on the left side of the stadium, was Kurt. One glimpse of his face and Dave felt as if he was letting out a breath he had not known he had been holding for the last three months; his stomach was flooded with that nervous, fluttery sensation.

Drinking in the sight of his constant contemplations, Dave was visited by the strangest sense of being placated. The longer Kurt had remained absent from his life, the more Dave had begun to feel as if the other boy was nothing more than a figment of his mind, a phantasmic illusion that he had built into an obsession. Without his daily physical presence, Kurt had begun to feel less and less tangible to Dave, more and more ephemeral, a memory with no concrete origin or basis.

There was something immensely comforting, relieving, about seeing the other boy in person again. There was also something very grounding about it. These past few months Dave had been living in relation to an idea, an image of the other boy which he now realized had started to grow larger than life; in his mind, Kurt had become a symbol of all his frustrated desires, all his torment and anguish and inner conflict and because of that the other boy had stopped seeming human to Dave. Being reminded that Kurt was just flesh and bone, just a person more or less like any other, was strangely consoling to him.

Dave did not remain consoled for long, however, for his rapt attentions had apparently been sensed by the other boy. Kurt glanced his way and for the briefest of moments, the two of them made eye contact. Dave's stomach did a violent summersault and he swiftly swiveled back around in his seat to watch the game, before he was able to catch Kurt's reaction to their mutual acknowledgement. He was terrified of what he might see on the other boy's face: disgust, antipathy, haughty condescension or, perhaps worst of all, complete nonchalance.

Dave was not yet ready to find out exactly how the other boy's feelings toward him had changed (or not changed) since their parting. He still retained hope that someday, somehow, the might find a way to reconcile and Dave could not handle having that hope revoked from him. At least not today. He needed to believe there remained in Kurt some of that old desire to help and protect him. He did not think he could bare discovering that all the other boy's kind impulses towards him had been entirely eradicated. For now he preferred to remain ignorant, rather than be exposed to a potentially unpleasant truth.

Therefore, strong as his impulse was to continue looking at the other boy, Dave forced himself to remain facing forward in his seat. And just like with the football, denying himself the sight of Kurt while within his presence felt deeply unnatural to Dave. Especially since he would swear that he could distinctly feel the other boy's attention radiating toward him, like a warm sunbeam aimed right at the back of his neck. Dave knew that sense could be entirely the product of his own wishful thinking, but as of right now he was not brave enough to find out one way or the other.

So he remained facing forward, 'watching' the game unfold, not really taking any of it in until something unusual happened. The other team fumbled the ball and their side actually had a chance to make a touchdown. One of the Glee girls, Dave couldn't tell who, picked up the ball and started running. As the rest of the crowd cheered, Dave had to exert a gargantuan level of self-restraint not to join in. Truth be told, he desperately wanted her to make that touchdown.

And she had almost scored when she got tackled pretty hard. Dave saw it coming and could not help wincing in anticipation. However, when she did not get up he, along with the rest of the crowd, began to feel genuinely worried. He knew the girls had been too small and inexperienced to pull something like this off. Why the coach had even allowed it was still a mystery to him. So he sat with bated breath, along with the rest of the crowd, waiting for her to get up, desperate to know that she was okay.

She did eventually get up but the relief of it was rather listless. This game was just getting worse and worse the longer it went on and all Dave really wanted to do now was gather all his stuff from his locker room locker and get the hell out of there. The season was over, and watching it crash and burn right in front of him while he could do nothing to stop it was indeed as masochistic as he had first feared.

"I'm getting my shit and going home," Dave had said then to his friends, launching himself out of his seat without waiting for a response and making his way down the bleachers. He could hear his friends following him, but he did not turn around and look back. He was still afraid he might catch a glimpse Kurt's face. He had had enough disappointments for one night; he certainly was not about to invite yet another.

1


	34. Sticks & Stones

"_You're so afraid of being called geeks, or losers or gay that you settle for being nothing." _

As Dave stood alone by his open, empty locker, abandoned by all his friends, he could not get that one sentence out of his head. Puck had come into the locker room at the end of the game's first half and somehow rallied the masses back into performing at the half-time show. Right this very minute they were all putting on their zombie make-up and gear and getting ready to dance in front of the whole school, in the hopes that the championship game was not yet lost to them. All of them except him.

After all, as Puck had pleaded with them so passionately, "We can win this guys, I know it!"

"What's the point man?" Azimio had asked him at first, his tone regretful as he argued, "Beiste isn't going to let us play."

"She will if come out and perform at the half-time show," Puck had responded with utter assurance. And they all knew he spoke the truth.

Dave had felt it, then, the change of heart pervading the room around him. He could feel the other guys being won over by what Puck had said, and so he was not exactly surprised when Azimio had relented.

"I'm in."

"Yeah, me too."

Dave, however, still could not face it. "No way," he had maintained, digging his metaphorical heels in.

"Come on man, I really want to win this game," Azimio had pleaded with him, then, sounding uncharacteristically sincere. "It means so much to my dad."

Dave did understand their change of heart, but it was not the same for him as it was for the rest of them; this was one gamble he just could not bring himself to take because it was a gamble he simply could not bare to lose.

"Forget it, okay. Glee club sucks!" he had responded, all his virulent disgust with the experience evident in his tone.

"Alright, Karofsky's out. Whatever," Puck had interjected, dismissively. "The rest of you need to get into your zombie make-up and hit the field toot-sweet."

And so they had gone. In all honesty, Dave was not in the least surprised that his friends had been won over. Puck had an overwhelming charisma about him and his argument had been undeniably sound.

"You're all a bunch of cowards. Coward losers…This is it. This is the moment of our lives. This is the one we can actually look back and tell our children about. This is our moment to actually _win_ something, and you guys are sitting in the damn stands! I mean, you're so afraid of being called geeks, or losers, or gay that you settle for being nothing…"

The thing that Puck, and the rest of them, had the very convenient luxury of not understanding was that being nothing was still in many ways preferable to being gay. Being nothing was better than being something the world hated. At that thought, Dave was suddenly reminded of that stupid little poem they teach school children:

Sticks and stone may break my bones  
But names will never hurt me.

Dave had never realized until recently just how much of a lie that truly was. The idea that words, and name and labels don't hurt people was perhaps a bigger falsehood than Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny combined. Of all the lies adults had told him over the years growing up – and there had been many –Dave suddenly realized that this one, by far and away, trumped them all.

Words hurt, names hurt. And they especially hurt when they were true. Dave understood all too well why the other guys had relented. Because if somebody called them "gay" for dancing in front of the whole school, they had the privilege of consoling themselves with the knowledge that it was not true. He had no such luxury; he could not tuck himself into bed at night with the comforting thought that he was not_ really_ that thing they all hated…because he was precisely that thing they all hated.

So, to be a despised thing or nothing at all – that had been the question. And Dave hated, hated, _**HATED**_ the fact that those were his only two options. Despite all the world's talk about life being a choice and people having the power to decide what they want to be and do, nobody ever seemed to acknowledge that, even when we have a choice in life, we don't ever choose what our choices will be.

Dave had two options in front of him at this very moment. But he had had no say whatsoever in the construction of those two options. He found neither of them remotely desirable and therefore he had been stuck with simply picking the lesser of two disappointments. Life might have been a choice, but it was not now, nor had it ever been, a _free_ choice. We don't have the power to pick what options will be made available to us and some choices will always be valued over others.

_Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me_. Dave had had plenty of broken bones in his life. He'd had a few other body parts broken recently, too. But none of them had ever hurt in the way that one sentence so very much had: "Holy crap, they turned Karofsky gay."

_Names will never hurt me…_as a child Dave had thought those words were just a statement of fact, a mere iteration of what is true. Now he realized they were more like an enchantment, some kind of cosmic bargain one offered up to the gods of fortune in the hopes that names never _would_ be granted the power to hurt you. Clearly his recitation had been faulty somehow.

Or maybe it was just his old friend, Karma. He had certainly used names enough in the past to hurt other people; maybe this was just cosmic-justice. After all, he very much doubted if there was anyone on the planet who used the word "gay" as a slur more often than he did. For him it had become quite literally a compulsion. He felt as if, if he went too long without calling someone else that name, that name would somehow be given more and more room to call him. It was as if, if he said it enough to everyone around him, no one would ever have the opportunity to say it back to him. He felt like, if he just kept shouting the word at others at the top of his lungs, he would never be able to hear it shouted back at him over the sound of his own voice.

And in point of fact, that seemed to have been all too true. As long as he had been mocking the Glee guys, making fun of them for being queer, he had remained impervious to being called such names. It was only when Dave had relented, let his guard down, stopped trying to apply that name to others that someone had applied it to him.

This was the very thing he had been so terribly afraid of when Kurt had still been around, holding Dave's secret in the palm of his freesia-scented hand. He could not bare the thought of Kurt telling everyone else and finding himself subsequently turned into this _thing _in their eyes_. _Gay. Being called that word had made him feel like his face had been shoved under water. It felt like drowning and not being able to scream. It was a silencing word, a word that stopped you from being able to talk back.

Once you were it, you would never and could never be anything else; you were just this silent, vacant thing, made mute for all eternity.

What Puck had said was by and large true. Right now Dave was nothing; but he was still a nothing that retained the power to become something once again, at some point in the future. When you are nothing, Dave realized, there is always room for movement, always space to become something else, something different, something new, something better. When you are gay, that is where the story ends, because you can never be or become anything else after that.

Sticks and stones may break my bones  
But names can silence me completely

Dave could not stand the thought of living consigned to silence. He would rather be nothing, with the power to become something again, than be something that robbed him of any power at all. He hated that those were the only two positions the world offered him, but we don't chose our choices…we can only move between the choices already made for us.


	35. Healthy Jealousy

Dave could not sleep. He was lying in bed riding a kind of nervous high. For the past few hours he had been feeling nothing but blissful elation, having snatched the football championship back from what had seemed an inevitable defeat. But after parting with his friends, as their after-game celebration party came to a close, Dave could not help the anxiety and self-doubt that crept quietly back in.

He was still over the moon about winning the championship. That victory was solid and untouchable. The dance, however…that was something different. Dave did not regret it. If he had it to do all over again, he would have made the same call. However, that still did not make his impulsive decision an entirely smart or safe one he acknowledged, as he thought back on the pivotal moment of this roller-coaster of an evening.

Dave had exited the locker room with all his football gear packed in his bag, intending to go directly home and burn the whole lot in his back yard. All he had wanted in that moment was to completely expunge the memory of Glee club, Thriller and the WMHS football championship completely from his brain. But as he had walked out of the school's main double doors, headed towards the front parking lot and his truck, something gave him pause. Kurt.

Kurt had been the one thing Dave had not foreseen in this evening. The boy's presence had been a pleasant, if unnerving surprise and as Dave stood poised, ready to leave the campus, it suddenly occurred to him that this was one final factor he had not yet thoroughly considered. He had no idea when he might have another opportunity to see the other boy again, and Dave very quickly decided this chance was just too precious to waste. He had to go back and get one final look at the boy whose graceful figure and ethereal beauty still held him captive, even after all these months of absence. And if that meant watching the dance routine he was so painfully excluded from, well then, so be it. It would be worth it.

So Dave had made his way back to the field. As he approached it, he could see the stadium was being flooded with smoke from the enormous fog machines the school had managed to procure for this event. It looked properly spooky. Leaning against the left hand corner of the bleachers, Dave turned his attentions upward and he soon saw what he had come back to see. Kurt was seated in the stands, with his hands braced behind him and his chest ostentatiously puffed out; with one leg dangling over the other, his foot bounced rhythmically to some internal beat kept up by the unstoppable energy that seemed to radiate from him at all times. He was turned toward his dark haired companion and the two of them were chatting quite happily and animatedly to each other.

Dave had seen the boy before and recognized him as Kurt's boyfriend and as the kid who had tried to help stage an intervention with Kurt on his behalf. Funnily enough, it occurred to Dave that this was actually the first time it had ever occurred to him to be jealous of the other boy. Over the past several months, as he had tried to grapple with the enormity of his sexual desire for Kurt and how he should deal with it, the question of where _Kurt's_ affections and sexual desires were aimed had not actually been something to which he had given any real thought. All of Dave's agonizing and pondering had centered solely around his feelings for the other boy, and the other boy's gayness as an overriding social identity.

For the very first time, however, Dave had found himself considering Kurt's love life as a thing unto itself. He found himself asking what the well-groomed, dark-haired boy was like, and wondering what it was that Kurt saw in him or liked about him. Dave also had found himself wondering if they really were romantically involved at all. Although they were clearly close, nothing about the way they interacted with each other definitively confirmed it; they did not hold hands, or kiss, or put their arms around one another, even though it was certainly cold enough to warrant it. Maybe they were just friends after all, Dave felt himself hoping. He really did not like the idea of Kurt being romantically involved with anyone else; it made him feel jealous and territorial…emotions which, it very soon occurred to him, were actually uncharacteristically healthy.

For perhaps the first time ever, Dave realized, he had managed to view Kurt, and his relationship _to_ Kurt, in thoroughly ordinary terms. Jealousy felt for the romantic partner of your crush was perhaps the most banal, common feeling any teenager ever had. That Dave had managed to see this situation in such a normal way, and that he responded to it in such a normal way, struck him as being, in fact, quite significant. Without even trying, he had somehow managed to bypass entirely the 'gayness' of it and instead view it merely as a teenage love triangle just like any other. The fact that they were all boys had been, at least momentarily, entirely irrelevant to him and to the meaning he had assigned to it. Even at the time, Dave was able to acknowledge how genuinely momentous that actually was for him.

In fact, Dave had become so wrapped up in the shock of his own unexpected emotional progress that he had temporarily completely forgotten what was going on around him. His momentary obliviousness was very soon ended, however, with the crystal clear reverberation throughout the whole stadium of Santana singing "Off with your head."


	36. Misbegotten Happiness

At the sound of the opening notes, Dave's head whipped around to take in the sight of his classmates organized in perfect formation, amidst a cloud of truly atmospheric smoke, the lot of them looking like models for Halloween costume catalogues. They made a truly spectacular sight, Dave instantly acknowledged, all of them dressed up to the nines, moving in choreographed synchronicity to the undeniably compelling beat of the music. The performance was so epic, in fact, Dave found himself moving from his hiding place at the corner of the bleachers toward the 50 yard line, where he could take in the show more clearly.

Lights flashed, music blared, voices rang out, hands and arms and legs moved in unison to create such an enthralling spectacle it was impossible not to be taken in by it. In fact, the only thing in the world that could possibly distract from such a performance was the audience reaction to it. The whole stadium was on its feet, dancing and clapping along with such unrestrained enthusiasm Dave was genuinely overcome by the sight of it. To see his response to the show so openly reflected by the crowd, it had moved something in him. And it had healed something in him, too.

For Dave had suddenly implicitly understood a reality that had previously eluded him, up until that point. His fear of dancing had never actually been predicated on the fact that it might make him look gay; it had been predicated on the fact that, once again, the world was telling him that his pleasure was **wrong**. The horror of being called gay, Dave realized, did not lie in the fact that it iterated your sexual desire. The horror resided in the fact that, often, you were not only being told what your sexual desire_ was_, you were being told that your sexual desire was wrong.

The word "gay," Dave suddenly realized, was not just a term for a particular kind of sexuality; it was also a code-word, for any and all pleasure you weren't supposed to have. It was THE designated term for misbegotten happiness. Finally, in that moment down on the field, Dave realized where the word had most probably come from. He now understood why homosexual people were called "gay" – because they had found a happiness, a pleasure, an ecstasy that was never 'supposed' to be.

And that was why it had hurt him so very bad when that other boy had said what he said: "Holy crap, they turned Karofsky gay." It was not his sexuality that had been at issue in that moment at all; it had been his pleasure, specifically his pleasure in dancing. Dave had found a pleasure he allegedly wasn't supposed to have, and whenever people do that, the word gay almost always gets pulled out as a way of policing it and shutting it down.

When that other boy had said what he had said, he had not actually been making an equivalency between homosexuality and dancing at all. He had not _actually_ been saying 'you like dancing therefore you must be gay.' He had, in point of fact, been making an analogy, a comparison. To take pleasure in dancing was wrong, not because it made you gay, but because it was _analogous_ to being gay. It was not that the two things were in any way causally related; the one was simply a metaphor for the other.

Dave had been told dancing was gay not because it was, in point of fact, homosexual. He had been told it was gay because it was a pleasure people apparently had thought he was not supposed to have, just like kissing other boys was a pleasure most people thought he was not supposed to have. But as Dave had stood on that field, transfixed by the cheers of the wildly approving crowd, he felt and saw one of his denigrated pleasures suddenly being venerated once more. What he had been told was bad, and wrong, was suddenly being greeted with thunderous applause, and Dave had had no words for how utterly validated that had made him feel. It was like a much need suture on a wound that had remained open and infected for far too long.

The swell of emotion Dave had felt at the sight of this scene had overwhelmed the whole of his person, and there had been absolutely no way to contain it. The field had been open, it had been his move, and his heart simply would not permit him to stay standing on the sidelines. The music had hummed almost violently through his veins and his body had absolutely begged, in that moment, to be set free.

Dave had spent that whole night trying to contain his impulses, deny his pleasures, and that had been painfully suffocating, both literally and figuratively. And as the music had called to him, Dave knew there was nothing for it but to surrender. And the release of it had been…orgasmic. Giving in just felt so _good_.

Dave was visited once again by that sense of his body being distinctly disconnected from his brain, or at least the part of his brain that existed to second-guess everything. His legs had seemed to carry him of their own volition out onto the field, to his place in the formation next to Finn. The other boy had greeted him with warm enthusiasm and Dave knew instantly that he had redeemed himself in the quarterback's eyes. And with that fence mended, he had nothing to distract him from the music, which was giving itself physical presence in the world through his body, guiding his every move as if from the inside out.

The music was inside him, the dance was inside him, and allowing these forces free reign made Dave feel gloriously in-sync with himself. All the parts of him, which normally operated so painfully disparately – his body, his brain, his emotions – in this one moment temporarily aligned with perfect unity. And the astounding relief Dave felt from being momentarily freed of this perpetual conflict was a sheer joy.

Dave followed it through to the end and was still a bit dazed when his teammates enveloped him in celebratory hugs. He could hear their cheers, as well as the cheers from the crowd, only as if from a distance. His mind still felt like it was floating, suspended, blissfully placated and not in a hurry to regain fully attentiveness to the world around it. Dave followed his fellow footballers back to the locker room, where their heightened spirits from the victory of the dance were transformed into a unified hunger to win the game.

They returned to the field where through a combination of team spirit, practice, skill, leadership and sheer determination, they managed to eke out a dramatic victory in the final few moments of the game. As the whistle blew, affirming Finn's touchdown in the very last second, everyone on the field and in the stands erupted in cheers and the two groups merged. Yet through all the hustle and bustle and noise, at that moment Dave only had eyes for Kurt.

Although he knew the other boy probably did not give a whit about football, or even understand a lot of it, he was clearly ecstatic for this victory on behalf of his many friends on the WMHS football team – Finn, Puck, Sam, Mike, Artie. He jumped up and down, shouting and clapping with unbridled enthusiasm and Dave could not help the stab of longing he had felt in wishing Kurt was doing that cheering for him. Something in him wished with all his heart that Kurt had come tonight to see him play, watch him win, share in his joy at this glorious victory.

As Dave reconstructed the scene in his mind, in the darkness and quiet of his bedroom at 2 o'clock in the morning, he found himself rewriting the very end. Instead of following all his buddies back to the locker room to change, Dave watched Kurt rush out of the stands onto the field, straight at him. As the other boy made a beeline directly towards him, Dave did the same from the opposite direction, pulled by that magnetic force that vacillated between the two of them. With his eyes shining, Kurt would gallop up to him, throw his arms around Dave's neck and kiss him, jumping on him and wrapping his long lean legs around Dave as he did so. Dave would hold the other boy in place, and kiss him back, the two of them lost in a jubilant crowd that could not possibly have cared less.

It was an undeniably silly fantasy. A part of Dave felt utterly ridiculous for having it at all. It was so Hollywood, and so girly. Yet his mind could not help but cling to it, run it on repeat, add little embellishments here and there. And eventually Dave realized what it was about the daydream that so appealed to him: it was the pride on Kurt's face. Dave wanted Kurt to be proud of him, admire him, think well of him. He desperately craved the other boy's approval. His hopes for a reconciliation had been revived by the night's events and it gave him a strong sense of pleasure to think that such a scene was not totally out of the realm of possibility, if only at some point in the very distant future.

However, Dave was also feeling a strange sense of mourning. He had said goodbye to dancing tonight, and there would be no going back to it tomorrow. Thriller had been wonderful, but he knew social approval for it would not carryover indefinitely. Tonight the whole school had collectively agreed to overlook the inappropriateness of football players dancing to pop music, but Dave had no illusions that that was only a temporary thing. He could not fool himself that the social order had been permanently altered by this fluke. Tonight was an anomaly, but the old rules still very much applied, and he would have abide by them if he wanted to keep any of the respect that winning the championship had earned him and the rest of the guys.

Dancing, for him, was a misbegotten happiness and although he had endured no punishment for it this time, there sadly could not be a next time. For Dave simply did not have faith that the world would let him get away with it twice. It had been nice while it lasted, but pleasure was fickle and high-schoolers were even fickler and Dave was not ready to take the gamble that his fellow classmates would understand. He knew better than anyone that they were _not_ a group of people worth betting on.


	37. Underneath

Kurt was distracted. He was trying to enjoy the impromptu party he and Finn were hosting at their house to celebrate the football championship. But thoughts of a certain person kept intruding on his mind.

Kurt had not been surprised to see Dave at the game, but it had still felt very strange to him. He had actually noticed the other boy long before Dave had noticed him. Kurt first saw Karofsky when he and Azimio had approached Finn down on the field, right before the game had started. He had been too far away to actually get a good look at the other boy's face, but soon enough they moved into the stands and Kurt was able to observe Dave more clearly.

Karofsky had had his usual look of general disdain plastered on his face along with a rather acute look of frustration. He was clearly quite upset about being benched in a game like this. However Kurt also was not in the least surprised the other boy had not given in. He knew, probably better than anyone in the world, Karofsky's irrational need to preserve his reputation at any cost.

At that point in the evening, Kurt also just could not have imagined the other boy dancing, full stop. The very thought of it had been so incongruous to him it was like imagining a dog walking on its' hind legs. In that sense, Kurt had been disappointed by the teams' mass defection from the half-time performance, if only because it meant he would not be able to bare witness to the extraordinary event. Happily, as Kurt was to discover later on, his disappointment was premature.

As the game had begun, Kurt had tried to avoid looking at Karofsky. He did not want Blaine or his father to notice, but he snuck peeks during big plays, while everyone else was distracted. For some reason seeing the other boy appeased something in him; Kurt found it weirdly comforting. Dave had been such an ostentatious absence from his life in the last few months and yet still such a constant presence in his thoughts that it felt good to him to have the two things materially coincide for once.

Then, about half way through the first quarter, Kurt had caught Karofsky staring at him. He had been trying to watch the game, but the other boy's gaze had been like a siren call, way too loud to disregard. Not that Kurt wanted to disregard Dave. Quite the opposite. Their sights met for the briefest of seconds before Dave whipped around in his seat and made a tremendous show of being totally enveloped in the game.

Kurt, however, continued to stare at him intermittently. He had been hoping the other boy would look at him again, that he might somehow manage to communicate his openness, his willingness to be a sympathetic ear. But Karofsky was apparently still too anxiety-ridden about their history with one another and his own closeted sexuality to acknowledge him again. Kurt had kept trying all through the first half, until he watched Karofsky stand abruptly and leave the stadium, the rest of his knuckle-dragging cronies following in his wake.

Kurt had assumed they were all leaving the game for good and, subsequently, received a significant shock when almost all of them turned up on the field twenty minutes later, decked out in zombie gear and ready to dance. All of them except Karofsky. Kurt had wondered at the time, if all his friends were doing it, why Dave had been the only one to hold out. Peer pressure was by far the other boy's biggest motivator. Clearly, Kurt had thought to himself, this revolt was not _just_ about Dave's fears of looking uncool. Something else was obviously at play here.

At first Kurt found himself seriously contemplating this conundrum; however, he was not given the opportunity to think on it for very long. For about one minute into the song, Kurt witnessed something truly unbelievable. He watched the other boy, who had apparently been taking in the show from the safety of the sidelines, sprint onto the field, pulling on his costume-jersey as he went. Dave clapped hands congenially with Finn as he took his place in the formation and then he started to dance.

Kurt had to force himself not to descend into shocked laughter. The other boy was incredibly good, almost freakishly so. His mastery of the routine was flawless but it wasn't just that he had all the steps and moves down pat. He performed with a kind of confident, primal energy that seemed to animate his whole body from the inside out.

Most people, when they danced, followed the music and performed the routine as a memorized sequence of steps. With most people, dancing was a reactive process and a regimented, mechanical one. But for some very few people, when they danced, they seemed to manifest the music organically, via the very motions of their animated body. The synchronicity between the movement and the melody was so perfect it produced the illusion of a super-human co-existential harmony between the body and the beat. The two phenomena appeared to simultaneously mutually construct and contour one another, as if the dialectic between the bodily vibrations and the musical vibrations was the only thing keeping either one incarnate.

And Kurt had been positively floored to discover that Dave was apparently one of those people. He was a natural, a rare breed even amongst vocational dancers. The concurrently manifested symmetry between the beat of the music and Dave's body in motion was a sight to behold, and Kurt simply could not tear his eyes away. Perhaps more astonishing still was the look on the other boy's face. His was joy was palpable, even from the fifty yards of distance between them. And Kurt did not think he had ever seen the other boy look that way before.

In the past whenever Kurt has seen Dave pleased, it was always in a cynical, condescending, grimly satisfied kind of way, usually after he had slushied somebody or called them a nasty name. Kurt had never before seen the almost child-like earnest pleasure the jock fairly radiated as he performed. And in that moment, Kurt had thought to himself, with no small amount of irony, _maybe he really is gay after all._

Kurt had seen a side of Dave tonight he had not previously known existed. And it made him wonder as he stood lost in thought by the punch bowl, what else might the other boy be hiding? What other unexpected talents and pleasures and proclivities lay behind that oh so cool, Cro-Magnon frat-boy exterior? Before Karofsky had kissed him, Kurt had imagined that the other boy was more or less an open book. What you saw – an ignorant, bullying homophobic jerk – was what you got. But as time pressed on, Kurt was coming to discover that the other boy was hiding a whole host of other inclinations and capacities, the full range of which he still likely remained largely ignorant.

There was clearly a lot more going on there than was readily apparent to the casual observer. And that intrigued Kurt immensely. Every time he thought he finally had Dave's number, Dave would do something wholly surprising and unexpected. Who was Dave, Kurt suddenly found himself wondering, behind all the scared posturing and the façade of cool bravado? What was the other boy really like, underneath that very convincing persona he projected?

This question compelled Kurt immensely and he suddenly found himself wishing Finn had invited the other half of the football team to their party. What he would not have given at this moment to have the chance to start peeling back the layers that still shrouded the other boy, kept him under wraps. There was someone interesting in there, somewhere, someone very worth knowing. And Kurt had a perverse yet unmistakable desire to meet that person, whoever he might be.


	38. Six of One

"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

At this call for his attention, Kurt looked up instantly from his biology homework. Finn sounded very serious and Kurt was suddenly visited by the strong premonition he was about to have that long awaited lady-chat he had been so deftly pursuing with his step-brother recently.

"Sure. What's up?" Kurt asked, closing his book emphatically and affording the other boy his full attention.

"Um, well there's something I, ah, want to do. But I want to get your blessing before I go ahead with it, because it kinda involves you."

"Don't tell me you're thinking of switching sides _now_," Kurt teased, trying to lighten up the atmosphere in the room, which was feeling quite heavy at the moment.

Finn laughed a little nervously. "No, it's nothing like that," he responded.

Kurt waited but Finn remained mute. He seemed to be searching for just the right words to ask whatever it was he wanted to ask. Kurt tried to stay quiet, and be patient, but his curiosity was swelling exponentially with each second that ticked by in silence. Eventually he was forced to rather indelicately prompt Finn.

"Will you just come out with it already? You're making me crazy-nervous."

"Okay well you remember the football game and the half-time show?"

"It was less than two days ago, Finn. Of course I remember."

"Well, I know you must have seen Dave Karofsky during the performance…"

Kurt's eyes widened. Of the many topics Kurt thought Finn might broach, his ex-stalker was most definitely not among them. Not that he was antithetical to talking about Karofsky, but it was still _very_ delicate territory, for multiple reasons. Kurt had no idea what Finn knew, or thought he knew, or what he thought Kurt knew. And as such, Kurt knew he had to proceed with immense caution.

Trying very hard to remain as impassive as possible, Kurt replied very evenly and calmly, "Yes. What about him?"

Finn visibly relaxed quite a bit; he had clearly been worried Kurt would be more emotional about this.

"I know you remember what he used to be like, probably better than anyone. But I think being in Glee club has really changed him. He seemed to really like it a lot and he was a lot nicer to everyone when we were rehearsing the Thriller number."

"Okay…" Kurt said slowly, deliberately letting his voice trail away. Finn seemed to be laying the groundwork for some further argument he had yet to make.

"So, um, I was thinking about inviting him to join the McKinley Glee club permanently. I think he'd really like it actually and I think it might cut down on a lot of the harassment and bullying that's been going on at the school, by him _and_ by some of his friends. "

Kurt did not disagree with anything Finn had said. However, he _was_ quite skeptical that Dave would ever actually consider joining the Glee club for real. Although the other boy's pleasure in performing had clearly been genuine, Kurt also did not doubt for a second that the main reason he had gone along with it was because that had been his only means of remaining on the football team. The quid pro quo arrangement had allowed him to indulge his pleasure in dancing while still being able to save face in front of the school at large. If anyone ever questioned it, Dave could always just say he had done it to be able to play in the football championship. Nothing queer about _that_.

As such, Kurt thought Finn was rather naïve to imagine there was a possibility Dave might carry this over beyond the conference championship game. However, putting all of that aside, Kurt asked the question that was upper-most in his mind.

"What exactly does this have to do with me?"

"Well, there's no way anyone else in the Glee club will let Karofsky join unless he apologizes to you first. They'd want to know that you're cool with it."

Kurt nodded cautiously. It was obvious where Finn was going with this, but he wanted to have the other boy say it.

"So, I was wondering if he and I could come to Dalton sometime this week and maybe the three of us can work things out. If that's okay with you?"

Finn's very adamant respect for Kurt's feelings was indeed quite sweet. However, Kurt could not fully appreciate it because the prospect of being possibly reconciled with Karofsky was far too emotional and conflicting to allow him the cognitive space for it. Although there was a part of Kurt that found this proposal appealing to a certain degree, there was also a big part of him that remained terrified.

First off, the thought of the other boy apologizing to him made him extremely uncomfortable, for multiple reasons. Foremost was perhaps the fact that Finn would probably insist on being there for the apology. Even if Karofsky, by some miracle, chose to remain in the Glee club and came to apologize to him, Kurt still very seriously doubted he would be honest with Finn about why he had harassed Kurt in the first place. With Finn there, mediating the whole thing, a lot of things would go unsaid and a lot of things would go unresolved. And Kurt was not sure he could consent to 'forgiving' Karofsky in that circumstance, without a genuine acknowledgment from the other boy about what really went down between the two of them.

Despite his determination not to out Karofsky to anyone, Kurt also had no intention of actively aiding in the other boy's denial either. He simply refused to just let Karofsky off the hook without any kind of resolution of the bigger issue here, which was the other boy's internalized homophobia.

However, that fact also led to the second and even more discomforting possibility this theoretical apology presented. Because if Kurt somehow managed to get the apology he was looking for, one that acknowledged what Karofsky's bullying had actually always been about, that would subsequently catapult the two of them into very ambiguous territory with one another. Such a reconciliation would not necessarily make them friends in any sense of the word, but Kurt also did feel that it would engender a certain level of intimacy and obligation between them.

He also knew Dave quite possibly still had feelings for him, feelings both emotional and sexual in nature. And with the two of them back on amicable terms with one another, Kurt might have to start dealing with those feelings. Perhaps more frightening still, he might also have to start dealing with his _own_ feelings. Although Kurt had tried very hard to forget about those strange moments back at McKinley, after Dave had kissed him, when he had felt a very repellent yet undeniable stirring for the other boy, they had by no means been wiped entirely from his mind.

As long as Dave remained absent from his life, those experiences could be way-sided, ignored; they could remain unexamined. But having the other boy return to his life was going to push those instances front and center. Kurt would no longer have the luxury of disregarding them. And there was no denying that that made him very nervous.

"Kurt?"

Kurt had become so lost in his contemplations he had momentarily forgotten Finn was still waiting for an answer.

"Sorry, I was thinking. Um, my answer is yes, on one condition."

"Name it," Finn replied happily, looking like Kurt had given him an early Christmas present.

"That if either of us asks, you'll let us speak to each other alone. In private."

"Um, are you sure about that?" Finn asked skeptically, his expression suddenly suggesting Kurt might be certifiable.

"Yes," Kurt said firmly. "There are some things that happened between the two of us that nobody else knows about, and I think it needs to stay that way for now. So if Karofsky wants to apologize that's fine by me. But you should be aware that he probably isn't going to be able to fully apologize in front of you."

"Did he do something to actually hurt you because if he did, screw the invitation. I'll get Puck and Mike and Sam and go beat the hell of out him right now."

"No, seriously. It's not like that. Just please trust me."

Finn looked at Kurt for a long moment before replying, "Okay, if you say so," his voice communicating a remaining wariness.

"I do."

"Alright, well, I'll ask Karofsky tomorrow and if he agrees I'll send you a text to let you know we're coming to see you at your school."

"Alrighty, sounds good."

Kurt smiled at Finn as he left. But when the other boy was gone, his face fell considerably. He still thought Finn was being ridiculously naïve to think this was going to actually happen. Kurt knew the chances of Karofsky actually consenting to join the Glee club were exceedingly remote, to say the least. However, the odds were not what had Kurt feeling so anxious. It was the fact that no matter what happened with Dave, _he_ was going to be left feeling very discomforted.

If Karofsky did _not_ apologize, that meant the boy was still very deep in his own denial and still allowing peer pressure to completely rule his life, something which worried Kurt and would continue to worry him the longer it went on. If he _did_ apologize, that meant Kurt was going to have to start dealing with the other boy's conflicted sexuality and his _own_ very unsettled feelings, feelings that were by turns hostile, sympathetic, frustrated, resentful, understanding, intrigued…

No matter what happened, whether Karofksy said yes or no, whether he came or did not come, whether he apologized or not, Kurt was going to be uncomfortable and anxious about it. And because of that, Kurt honestly did not know which outcome he was rooting for at the moment. It was six of one and half-dozen of the other, by his calculations, and neither outcome was liable to leave him remotely satisfied.


	39. One More 'What if'

_What the hell had just happened?_

Dave could not stop that question reverberating through his mind as he drove himself home from school on auto-pilot.

What had Finn been thinking, assuming he wanted to join the Glee club permanently? And what had _he_ been thinking, responding to the invite with such hostility? He had not meant to bite the other boy's head off during their impromptu conversation about it after last period, but his anxieties had completely usurped his rational mind, causing him to be far harsher than he had ever intended. And this after he had promised himself he was going to try and stay on Finn's good side.

It had all started off so well. Dave had begun the day a bit nervously, ever so slightly concerned he might encounter a bit of residual teasing for the half-time show performance. But all he had encountered, thus far, were congrats and admiration for winning the conference championship. It seemed he, along with his fellow teammates, were to suffer no ill side-effects from their temporary foray into Glee. Feeling on top of the world for both their athletic success and for dodging the potential backlash from Thiller, Dave had managed to get to the end of his day in high spirits, a very rare experience for him in recent months.

And it was in that mood of congeniality that he had first responded to Finn's solicitation in the hallway, congratulating him quite sincerely on his MVP award. Finn had responded graciously by calling it a "team effort," and Dave had felt momentarily satisfied that he and the quarterback truly were back on amicable terms with one another. That assurance had been very short-lived however, for Finn had almost immediately moved on to broaching the two subjects which were always sure to get his blood pressure pounding: the Glee club and Kurt.

"There's no way the Glee club is going to let you join permanently until you clean things up with Kurt. So I was thinking maybe you and I could go together to Dalton and apologize to him – "

Dave would have shut Finn down a lot sooner had it not been for the introduction of Kurt almost instantly into the conversation. He had been day dreaming about this all weekend, his newly rectified relationship with the quarterback somehow leading to a reconciliation with Kurt. He had been hoping against hope that this opportunity would present itself, sooner or later, and Dave had felt dazed by how soon it had actually come. He had been offered the one thing he wanted more than anything in the whole wide world, and cruel irony, it had been shackled to one of the few concessions he simply could not make.

There had just been no way he could say 'yes' to apologizing to Kurt without saying 'yes' to the Glee club as well. And he simply could not do it. He had wanted to, desperately; in a perfect world he would have been able to say to Finn, "Okay, let's do it." In a perfect world he would have been able to go to Dalton, tell Kurt how sorry he genuinely was, have Kurt forgive him, join the McKinley Glee club, then have Kurt return to their school – where he belonged – and eventually consummate his desire for the other boy. But this was not that perfect world, _far_ from it. This was reality, a distinction which Finn had a surprisingly hard time grasping.

Dave had not realized, until that moment, just how naïve the quarterback truly was. And his shock had made his sarcasm more biting than it perhaps needed to be.

"What do you think? That we all dance around together and win a football game and everything's going to change? Glee club's going to be _cool_ and we'll all sing hippie peace songs together every morning?"

"Maybe, I dunno…" Finn had responded in earnest. Dave did not understand how Finn had managed to make it to the age of sixteen and still retain that much faith in people. It was like managing to make it to sixteen while still believing in unicorns and the Easter Bunny. Finn was someone who was inclined to think the best of people and the world at large. He seemed to live his life as if it were a movie, with the unshakable expectation that a happy ending was inevitable and guaranteed.

Finn was an optimist; Dave was a cynic and he was very much inclined to agree with whoever it was that said, "Happy endings are just stories that haven't finished yet." Happy endings were nothing but short-lived moments in time, and Dave knew they never actually lasted forever after. That was another lie adults perpetrated on children as a way of placating them, making them feel like fulfillment in life is obtainable and retainable. Dave was of the opinion that Finn was way too old to be swallowing that kind of fairytale BS any longer; he knew he certainly was.

Thriller had not been the start of the story, it had been the end of the story, and that was exactly what he had told Finn, almost in so many words.

"Dude, it's a finish, okay? This is high school. People's memories for good stuff lasts about as long as their facebook status."

Pleasure was fickle, happiness faded and tomorrow was always another day, another opportunity for all his classmates to demonstrate just how unworthy of his trust they truly were.

"We've got a chance to really change things here," Finn had insisted, in that earnest, supplicating tone.

But Dave knew people were predictable and they never really changed. Why bother trying?

"I just won the conference championship. I'm on top. Why would I want to change things?" he had asked the other boy mockingly.

The ironic thing was that he actually had every reason in the world to want to change things. What he had been mocking in Finn was not his desire to change things, it had been his naïve belief that change was possible. Even after more than a year of being harassed and picked on and humiliated for being in the Glee club, Hudson still thought all their peers would somehow eventually come around. The boy had a learning curve that could only be impressive compared to a slug.

Dave, on the other hand, had learned his lesson well. His fellow students were not to be counted on, they deserved none of his trust and none of his faith. They were not a group of people worth gambling on. There was only one person in the whole wide world whom Dave had ever seen consistently defy that rule: Kurt. Kurt had earned his trust; Kurt had kept his secret even when the other boy had had no reason to be nice to Dave and every reason to be mean. And _that_ was the only reason Dave really regretted today's encounter with Finn.

That apology, and the reconciliation it might have heralded, now seemed an even remoter possibility than it had been before the afternoon's debacle. And Dave truly was sorry for that. For the whole of the past weekend, following the game, Dave had felt cautiously optimistic that he could actually keep up his good rapport with Finn and that that could, somehow, eventually lead to patching things up with Kurt. He thought he would have time to slowly and gradually build a friendship with his teammate that might, one day, lead to the possibility of being totally honest about what had happened between himself and Finn's step-brother.

Dave thought he would have time. But having it sprung on him like this, almost immediately after he had gotten back on Finn's good side, had been something he was wholly unprepared for. And he had, of course, completely screwed it up, just like he always did. _Uh! Why was he so bad at controlling his temper? And why did his fear __**always **__manage to get the better of his good intentions?_

As Dave pulled into his driveway he could feel this moment becoming another one of the many 'what ifs' that ran like a broken record constantly through his brain. That little scene with Finn in the hallway today was about to become yet another past incident which Dave would use to drive himself crazy, thinking up all the ways he could have done things differently, all the things he should have said, instead of being hostile and nihilistic. This day had become just one more screw up in a long succession of screw-ups Dave already spent an inordinate amount of time berating himself for.

The only remotely comforting part was that Dave already had so many regrets running constant circles through his mind, one more was not likely to make it all that much of a dent. However, it also occurred to Dave that if those were the kind of thoughts he found comforting, his life truly was every bit as pathetic as it seemed, a realization that was not, ultimately, comforting in the least.


	40. Good Intentions

Sitting on the narrow bench in front of his gym locker, Dave found himself hunched over and alone once again in the fateful room where it had all begun. His breathing was labored, as if he had just sprinted a mile, and he was trying desperately to refrain from breaking his knuckles against the many metal lockers and cement walls that surrounded him, a herculean task given how distraught he was. Dave really, really wanted to punch something right now. He was just so unbelievably angry at himself.

How did he always manage to be such a royal fuck up? Every time he had a run-in with Kurt, or a run-in with someone else about Kurt, he always came away from it profoundly distressed, his feelings ranging from intense regret to utter terror. And every time he would emphatically promise himself that this would be the last time. But it never, ever was. Despite all his good intentions, all his well thought out plans, all his solemn oaths to himself, in the moment, Dave always found himself overtaken once again by fear.

And he had been in fine form tonight. He had happened upon the two boys accidentally, having left the deserted weight room to get a drink of water from the fountain in the hallway. The story he had told them – about someone else informing him of their presence – had been an impromptu fabrication. He _had_ been working out in the gym tonight, but very much alone, deliberately avoiding both his family at home and his friends at school, and he had, in fact, stumbled upon them quite unexpectedly. Which was probably a large reason why things had gone down as they did.

Being caught unawares always made Dave instantly defensive and hostile, and those sentiments had been very evident in the question he had blurted out to Kurt and his companion before he had had a chance to think better of it.

"What the hell are you two doing here?"

"We're here for the benefit," Kurt had replied with deliberated calm, his tone managing to sound both nervous and defiant at the same time. "Don't tell me _you're_ going."

Something in Dave had strongly recoiled at this remark. The way Kurt had said it made it sound distinctly like the other boy completely reviled the notion of being in any kind of proximity to him. Which, given their history with one another, should not have come as a surprise in the least to Dave, nor should it have been all that hurtful by this point. But somehow it _had _been…both a surprise and quite hurtful.

So Dave pushed back, metaphorically, responding, "I wouldn't be caught dead. I was pumping iron in the gym and one of the guys told me you two were here, spreading your faerie dust all over the place."

Looking back on it, Dave still did not quite know why he had lied about that. He supposed that at the time it had simply sounded a lot better in his head than, "I was getting a drink of water and saw you standing here." It also, he realized, made it seem more like he was in control, as if he had sought them out rather than just run into them by accident. It had made him sound like he wasn't afraid of them, as if he still retained the upper hand in all of this.

Unsurprisingly, however, that illusion had been quickly revoked by the self-assured blacked haired boy.

"Would you just give it up? You can live whatever lie you want but don't pretend that the three of us don't know what's _really_ going on here."

Broaching the subject of "what's really going on here" would have made Dave antagonistic in any context, but with one of their classmates emerging from the shadows within ear-shot, Dave was even more confrontational than he might otherwise have been.

"You don't know squat butt-boy," he had retorted, pure anger dripping from every syllable.

That had apparently been the boyfriend's tipping point. He had pushed Dave angrily in the chest and Dave had felt all too inclined to push back. He resented the other boy for more reasons than he could count and he was, in all honesty, more than a little pleased to have the chance to vent some of his aggression against this person who got to have so many of the things he didn't.

Unfortunately Santana had broken up their fight before it really gotten under way. And then Kurt had said something that had scared the holy hell out of him like nothing else ever had.

"You're real brave with your fists but you're a coward when it comes to the truth."

Dave could not believe it when the statement first came tumbling out of the other boy's mouth. Throughout this whole long saga Kurt had never before come that deliberately close to outing him in front of somebody else at school. Dave had been quite shocked by it and strangely hurt as well.

Much as it often felt as if he and Kurt were opponents, Dave had retained faith that, underneath it all, no matter what else happened, Kurt would respect his secret. Dave had taken it for granted that he could hurl at the other boy whatever insults or injuries might occur to him and the other boy would ultimately just take it all in silence.

But apparently beating up on his boyfriend had been one move too far. Dave had been able to see the hateful fury in Kurt's face after Santana had broken up their fight and he knew he could not simply depend on Kurt's conscience and his discretion any longer. He was on his own.

So when she had immediately, and predictably, asked, "Truth about what?" Dave had quickly issued his own rather pathetic defense.

"None of your business ."

But Santana was not like Kurt. She was not in the least inclined to just let things be and also, unlike Kurt, she seemed endowed with an over-abundance of self-esteem. Nobody ever said or did anything against Santana without ensuring retaliation of some kind. It had been part of the reason Dave had been so terrified to see that _she_ was the one butting into what should have been a private confrontation. The other part had been the fact that he had already pissed her off quite recently in another forum altogether, an incident over which she was predictably still quite angry.

"First of all, anything you do became my business when you decided to throw that slushy up in my grill."

By then Dave had been feeling extremely nervous and outnumbered, wanting nothing more than to leave and pretend that none of this had ever happened. But some residual sense of pride within him simply couldn't bare just backing down. Dave hated feeling weak and he really hated when his weaknesses were put on display. He had desperately needed, in that moment, to remind them all where they actually stood in the scheme of things compared to someone like him.

"I think I can take on a couple of queers and a girl."

At that Santana had laughed, walking towards him in that slow, and admittedly menacing way, issuing him a threat he could not recall word for word but which definitely included a promise to crack one of his nuts. Also, something about razor blades. By that point Dave had stopped listening to most of what she said, just wanting to flee the scene entirely.

He had had the distinct impression that if he continued sparring with the three of them, his outing would have been immanent. Kurt had looked especially close to sharing "what was really going on here" and Dave had not wanted to push him. Circumstances were different now. Kurt no longer went to their school and his sense of obligation toward Dave seemed to have waned significantly. Dave no longer held the kind of threat over Kurt that he once had, and because of that he knew he could not continue to harass the other boy with impunity. So he had left the threesome in the hallway and returned to the gym locker room, looking regretfully at yet another lost opportunity in his rear view mirror as he went.

In the privacy of his mind, Dave had lots of good intentions. He spent of a great many of his waking hours day-dreaming all the various ways in which he might be reconciled with the boy he was so obsessed by. But whenever life presented him a real opportunity to do just that, his fear always managed to take command instead and he inevitably wound up pushing the very thing he wanted farther and farther away.

Good intentions are easy to have, Dave had come to realize, but often impossible to follow through on. And maybe Mark Twain was right, maybe the road to hell _was_ paved with them. But the express lane to Hell's seventh circle? That, Dave was increasingly convinced, was paved with _thwarted_ good intentions.


	41. The Problem

Under normal circumstances, Kurt would have been distressed by the embarrassingly empty theater in which he was now sat. But the failed fund-raiser for McKinley's Glee club was taking a backseat at the moment to Kurt's discomfort over the encounter with Karofsky just a few minutes prior.

"Hey," Blaine said, elbowing him lightly from the seat on his left, "what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't let it get to me, but it's just, he drives me absolutely crazy!"

"I know," Blaine responded sympathetically.

"I mean, every time I see him I keep thinking this is finally going to be the moment when he'll start being honest. But every time he just completely disappoints me. I mean seriously, how can one person _be_ in that much denial? The guy is so far back in the closet he's in Narnia."

Blaine laughed quite heartily in response to this joke.

"I just want to smack him and then shout some sense into him."

"I think if it were possible to shout some sense into him, you would have figured out a way to do it a long time ago."

"He just makes me so freaking mad!" Kurt exclaimed trying to keep his voice low as he pounded his fist on the arm rest beneath it.

"You have to try to not let it bother you."

"But it _does_ bother me." Kurt paused momentarily and then continued. "And the thing is I can't actually be all that mad at him. It's really the rest of the world I'm pissed as hell at."

"What do you mean?"

Kurt let out a frustrated snort and took a few deep breaths, trying to put his thoughts properly in order before he attempted to explain.

"Dave doesn't do this kind of stuff because he's just essentially a douchebag. At least, I don't think he is. He does stuff like this because he's scared. The world has made him so terrified of being gay and now he's just like this –" Kurt struggled briefly to come up with an appropriate metaphor – "like this sad robot who's just acting out his programming. It's like he doesn't really even have a choice in the matter; he's just completely ruled by fear."

"Hey, I'm all for looking at the bigger picture but I don't think you should just absolve him of any and all responsibility."

"Oh believe me I'm not. I'm still plenty angry at him. It's just, when it comes down to it, he_ isn't_ the real problem here."

Blaine nodded solemnly at Kurt's conclusion and intoned, "True."

"It's like you said to me before, when all of this first started – he's lashing out because inside he's hurting. And I think, probably, when you get right down to it, the amount of pain he's caused me is still less than the amount of pain the world has caused _him_."

Kurt took another brief hiatus, then resumed once more.

"At the end of the day, you and me and him – we're all on the same side, we're all in the same boat. And most of my anger at him is over the fact that he still can't see that. He's still acting like you and I are the enemy, like we're the ones causing all his suffering. It's like he thinks all of us flaming queers are the reason the ship is on fire and if he just throws us all overboard, then he won't have to go down with us."

"That is so very true," Blaine concurred sincerely, seeming impressed by Kurt's insight.

"It's like he thinks if he destroys all of us easy targets, the H.M.S. Homophobe will just declare a cease-fire. Like he blames us for the fact that they're still shooting at him, like he thinks _we're_ the reason his world is still going up in flames."

"And he can't see that they would still be shooting at him, even if all of us 'easy targets' were destroyed."

"Yes, exactly."

Kurt paused momentarily, ruminating on how this unexpected metaphor was making the situation so much clearer to him.

"And I do understand why he feels that way, because from a certain point of view it does make sense. But…"

"But no one can hide forever," Blaine interjected knowingly.

"Yes. He'll become a target sooner or later. And when he finally does, he's not going to have anyone on his side anymore, to help him fight back. He'll have tossed us all overboard by then."

The two boys were silent for a long moment. Then Blaine asked, his tone hushed and serious, "You really want to help him don't you?"

Kurt stared a bit guiltily at his boyfriend. After the harassment Karofsky had put both of them through tonight it felt a bit traitorous of him to admit he still wanted to help the other boy. But the truth was that he did.

"Yes. But more than that I just want Karofsky to stop treating us like we're the problem. I just don't get why he can't see that we're not the problem, we're on his side!"

"Because he still can't admit that he _is_ one of us."

"Well I hope he's enjoying his stay in Narnia because something tells me that won't be for much longer."

"Santana?"

"Yeah. I really didn't mean to come that close to outing him. I probably shouldn't have said what I did. And I'm not going to say anything else about it if she asks me but I actually don't think it matters all that much anymore. She just has this way of…figuring stuff out. I'd be really surprised if she _didn't_ manage to work it out sooner or later."

"Kurt, you can't blame yourself for that. Sometimes these things just come out and it's _not_ really anyone's fault."

Blaine pause momentarily and then added, a bit more defiance in his voice, "Besides, he's the one that started a fight with us in a public place. If he really, truly wanted to remain in the closet, I don't think he would continue provoking us in the way that he does. _He_ is the one that keeps starting shit and I can't help feeling like, because of that, on some level, he _is_ asking to be found out."

"Well, whether he is 'asking for it' or not, I'm still not comfortable being the reason he gets outted. I want nothing to do with un-bagging that cat. I don't want to be within ten square miles of it!"

"I know, but you might not have much of a choice. You can try to avoid him as much as possible but as long you have ties here at McKinley, your paths _are_ going to continue to cross. And if he really is determined to drag you into his weird games of truth-chicken, I don't think there's much you can do to stop him."

Kurt let out a long, resigned sigh. He knew Blaine spoke the truth.

"Ultimately Dave is going to do what he's going to do. And you don't really have the power to stop him from putting himself into compromising positions…especially if that's where he actually does want to be."


	42. Ins and Outs

Dave didn't understand how it was possible to be both terrified and relieved at the same time but as he sat alone swirling the dregs of his coffee in the Lima Bean, watching Santana walk toward her car in the parking lot, he found himself somehow balancing both emotions with equal weight. He should have known she would pull something like this. However, when she had first asked him out, he honestly had not been thinking all that clearly about it. He had just been so excited to be presented with such an easy opportunity for cover that it had not crossed his mind that she might have something more devious up her sleeve. In retrospect, Dave realized, this was profoundly foolish. After all, this was classic Santana.

As she had said, "The only straight I am is straight-up bitch. You in or not?"

Dave did not like being blackmailed, and a part of him resented Santana immensely for threatening to use the truth she had so cleverly deduced about him against him, to get what she wanted. However, in return, she _had_ offered him something he desperately wanted and needed as well: cover. Or a "beard," as she had put it. And knowing that the two of them were in the same boat – that she needed him just as much as he needed her, and for the same reason –had made him feel oddly calmed. A little less lonely, too.

Although Dave had always known, rationally, that there were probably plenty of people like him, it had still often felt as if he was the only person in the world suffering through it. When Santana had said those six small words to him – "we play on the same team" – he had momentarily felt the most intense affinity with her, in spite of himself and the situation. However the situation very soon reasserted itself with full force.

Indeed, there had been much about that conversation that had distressed Dave immensely, starting with Santana's blithe and rather loud pronouncement "You're gay!" Perhaps more distressing still was when she had exclaimed that no one needed to tell her this as she had managed to figure it out all on her own, due to nothing more than a casual glance in a hallway. She was like a female Sherlock Holmes. At least that's what Dave hoped, because if not, that meant he was a lot more obvious than he had previously thought. He hated the idea that anyone could so easily pick up on his sexual inclinations and he realized, following her instructions, that he, in fact, _did_ need to be a lot more careful in the future.

It was an exhausting thought, as Dave already felt like he was constantly policing and monitoring his own behavior, always actively working not to betray any signs. Apparently he needed to be even more vigilant, though he was not entirely sure how that was even possible. Which was probably why he had not entirely believed her when she had claimed that Kurt and his boyfriend had not spilled the beans on the night of the Glee club benefit. At the time, he had had the suspicion that Kurt was fast reaching the end of his tether and it would have made perfect sense for him to confide in Santana right after their interlude in the hallway had concluded.

The idea that Kurt had betrayed him in that way had bizarrely made Dave feel even more distressed and emotional than just the mere knowledge that Santana knew. Despite the fact that he was aware the other boy owed him nothing, and in fact would have been completely justified in sharing Dave's secret, Dave had always believed, deep down inside, Kurt respected his privacy and at least respected him enough not to leverage his sexuality against him. Dave had put his faith in Kurt in a way he had never done with anyone else and the thought that the other boy had violated his trust had been infuriatingly painful, the pain prompting him to make his rather hysterical threat to kick their asses.

But Santana had dismissed his emotional outburst, rather patronizingly telling him to "settle down" so she could tell him a story. She had then proceeded to lay out what was simultaneously a hauntingly grim and yet disturbingly realistic vision of his future. It was something Dave usually tried very deliberately to avoid thinking about. The present was bad enough; life down the road was a subject he intentionally tried to keep out of his own thoughts whenever possible. But somehow Santana just knew how to push his buttons and she had told him a story that had genuinely terrified him.

"You're what we call a 'late in life' gay. You're going to stay in the closet, get married, get drunk to have relations with your wife, have a couple of kids, maybe become a state senator or deacon. And then get caught in the men's room tapping your foot with some page. And you know what? I accept that about you."

Something about the very ironic was she had made her final statement of "acceptance" had made Dave feel intensely claustrophobic and trapped. Normally he spent most of his time worrying about the horrors of being gay. But something about the way she had presented this "straight" version of his life had induced in him even more terror than his multiple visions of a potentially queer future. She had made it sound inevitable, like his fate was already sealed, preordained, as if there was no way he could intervene. And although he knew he was not ready to be open about his desires, Dave also knew he did_ NOT_ want to end up in the position she forecast with such assurance. That was equally terrifying to being openly gay, if not more so.

So to get her to stop mocking him Dave had just asked her, flat out, "Why are you doing this?"

That was when she had laid out her very savvy plan – using each other as cover and in the process becoming real contenders for Prom King and Queen. Dave was still not exactly sure why Santana even wanted to be Prom Queen; such tawdry popularity contests did not seem like the sort of thing she would normally lower herself to. But whatever her reasons, Dave had felt hesitant. First because he simply disliked being manipulated and forced to act under duress. But perhaps more so because he was fearful of starting down the path she had prophesized for him.

Dave was already having to manage a precarious amount of lies as it was and he had felt very wary of taking on even more falsehoods he would have to expend copious amounts of energy maintaining. Living so much deceit was already exhausting, the last thing Dave wanted was more of the same. But Santana had not giving him much choice. And truth be told, he actually felt a lot better about perpetrating this fraud 'openly' with her.

A large part of the reason Dave had not ever had a girlfriend before now, even though he knew it would have made his cover a lot easier to keep, was because he had honestly felt really bad about the idea of deceiving a girl into a relationship. While it was true that he often acted like a douchebag, Dave was not actually an unfeeling person. He had not wanted to lie to and extensively manipulate some poor girl solely for his benefit. Casually lying to people in everyday contexts was one thing, but creating the illusion of genuine intimacy with someone was a whole different ball game altogether, and Dave had never had the stomach for it. There were lies and then there were _lies_, and there was something about so callously using someone in that way that just had never sat right with him.

But with Santana, there were no lies, no illusions. They were using each other for the same purpose and both with their eyes wide open. Dave could tolerate that. There was a lot about it that still made him uncomfortable but he could tolerate it. So, after Santana had issued her ultimatum, Dave had told her, without too much hesitation, that he was in.

It would help shore up his reputation, prevent him from being outed, perhaps get him elected Prom King and, most appealing, there was a good chance it would get Kurt back at McKinley. In short, there was a lot of upside and almost no downside. It was a gamble he would have been an idiot not to take. So he and Santana had shaken on it, with her looking sarcastically pleased at his acquiescence. She had then told him she would soon contact him with further instructions, sounding eerily like some sort of super-villain mastermind. And Dave was more than happy to let her take the lead. He was very much along for the ride with this one.

At the end of the day, this was her party. Dave was just doing what he needed to do. And yet he still couldn't decide if he was more nervous having someone else know about him, or more relieved that he was not the only one. Having a partner in the closet felt kind of nice to Dave, despite the fact that she was Machiavellian to the extreme and might eject him from their shared enclosure at any time. Perhaps Dave was being naïve, perhaps he had just gotten too used to Kurt's reverence for his secret, but he actually had a very hard time believing, at the end of the day, that Santana would do what she threatened and out him.

Even if she was not moved by their mutual plight, at the very least she did not stand to actually gain anything from outing him. He'd be worthless to her as a beard if his secret got out. Which was why, as Dave stood up to leave, a feeling of hesitant calm descended on him. Santana might be ruthless, but she was definitely not stupid. If nothing else, outing him would not be a smart thing for her to do and therefore, as Dave made his way to his truck, he found himself thinking of Santana as more of an ally than an adversary.

He still did not like the fact that his secret was being held in ever more pairs of hands, but at least these hands had a good reason to keep his secret safe...for the moment, if nothing else.


	43. Fear of Falling

"I have to say, I'm impressed. You carried that off with room to spare."

Santana greeted Dave with this pronouncement as she approached him in the hallway, while he was gathering books from his locker. They had made their pitch to the Glee club during the previous class period; and while everyone had been hostile at first, their performance seemed to have rung true in the end. Or true enough.

"Thanks," Dave replied, somewhat sarcastically. He never failed to be amazed at Santana's ability to make any comment, observation or even complement sound like an insult.

"So, now onto phase two: Kurt."

"Yeah, I know. My meeting with him and his Dad is already scheduled for tomorrow."

As he said this, Dave watched Santana remove her phone from her bra and madly click through her menu to check her facebook page. Never taking her attention away from device, she subsequently responded.

"Excellent. Let me know as soon as it's done. I want to launch our Prom campaign the minute he agrees to come back."

"How do you know he even will agree to come back?" Dave asked, his voice half mocking, half pleading.

At this Santana rolled her eyes and looked at him as if he was being overly dense.

"Because I know him. He wants to be back here, _badly_. And you're the only thing that's stopping him. So all you need to do is tell him whatever he wants to hear and make him feel safe again."

When Dave continued to look at Santana with a rather blank expression she huffed and proceeded to expound further unhelpful advice.

"Look, tell him the truth, tell him a lie, just tell him whatever you think will make him comfortable being around you again."

"How should I know what will make him comfortable being around me?" Dave asked her with slightly panicked frustration.

"Sweetie, it's not hard," she intoned rather patronizingly. "Just tell him you're really sorry and that you'll never do it again. It shouldn't be too hard for you to sound sincere. I mean, that_ is_ the truth," she concluded, returning her gaze to her phone once again.

Dave remained silent, just staring at his cohort. Her advice sounded sensible enough, he supposed, but he just could not shake the feeling that, even if he were totally honest with Kurt about how sorry he genuinely was and how much he really wished for the other boy to return to their school, Kurt would still insist on seeing him as just a bully and a liar. This anxiety must have shown quite plainly on his face for, a moment later, Santana looked at him and her face suddenly morphed into an expression of gleeful realization.

"Oh my god. You actually _do_ want him to come back, don't you?" she asked, her eyes dancing with mirth, an amused smirk spreading widely across her face.

"What? _No!_" Dave responded very defensively, feeling his face redden as he closed his locker just a little too hard and turned to walk away from her. He knew his denial was not remotely believable and as he started walking swiftly away from her, he began mentally railing at himself for accidentally allowing her in on yet another one of his shameful secrets. However, Dave was only able to take a few steps down the hall before his beard caught up with him, linking her left arm with his right and putting her face directly up next to his ear.

"We're supposed to be going out, remember?" she whispered. "You need to at least pretend like you like me."

In response to this Dave slowed his walk slightly and composed his face accordingly, pretending to find Santana's ostensible 'affections' pleasing. However, as he turned a 'loving' gaze back on her, he replied scathingly under his breath, "Well, you don't exactly make it easy."

"Sorry, sweetie. That's just how I roll," she crooned in return, clearly mocking him as she planted a big, fake kiss on his cheek.

Dave knew she had done this solely to annoy him and he had to expend every ounce of self-control he possessed not to wipe it violently away. Instead, he turned to look at her full-on and gave her a smile that was clearly a veiled grimace. Taking in his pained expression, Santana rolled her eyes, let out a sigh and dragged Dave toward the janitor's closet on their right. Once inside, she released him and crossed her arms, clearly ready to be serious for a moment.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay. It's just…I think it's kinda sweet: you actually worrying about whether Kurt will forgive you."

Dave narrowed his eyes at his fake girlfriend, not at all sure how to respond to her unexpected statement. On the one hand he really resented Santana for using her overly keen observational talents to get inside his head yet again. She seemed to have no respect or reverence for his privacy…or anyone else's for that matter. But on the other hand, he could not deny that he found her playful mocking and teasing bizarrely comforting, at the same time that he found it invasive.

Dave had long suspected that it would be a relief to have someone else in on his secret. And even though the often callous Santana would never have been his first choice, he found her honesty with him to be a welcome respite from the constant pretences he was forced to maintain with everyone else. Santana refused to let him live his own lies; and although her ejecting of him from his comfort zone was often unnecessarily harsh, Dave also perversely liked how it forcibly opened up new possibilities for him.

All these thoughts and emotions, they used to just run pointless closed-circuits through his mind. She was a welcome disruption to that, and she often added inference to the system that was pleasurably unpredictable. This dynamic admittedly still made Dave very nervous, but he found it both exciting and useful, too. The novelty of living the truth with someone was oddly thrilling. Even if it only ever happened within the privacy of closets.

"You really don't need to worry about it," she continued soothingly. "Like I said, Kurt wants to come back. Just find a way to convince him you're not a threat and he'll coming running faster than a cheetah on speed."

"I think I can do that," Dave replied, with cautious confidence.

"Good," Santana responded, her tone all business once again. "Just let me know as soon as it's done. I'm getting ready to launch our facebook campaign fan page and it's almost complete."

And with that she exited the closet and left Dave once again to the privacy of his thoughts. He still was not entirely clear on why Santana wanted this so badly. Although she had said it was just about status and being able to "rule the school," Dave had the sneaking suspicion that that wasn't the whole story. If all she had wanted to do was climb the social ladder, she need not have come out to him for that. She could have easily just blackmailed him with what she knew, without confessing they were secretly on the same side. Therefore Dave suspected there was actually something a lot more personal going on here, though he could imagine what it might be or what it would possibly have to do with being Prom Queen.

However, curious as Santana's nebulous motives were, Dave could not dwell on them for too long. Not with the thought of Kurt's very probable and imminent return to their school circling through the forefront of his mind. From the way Santana made it sound, the other boy wanted to be back here just as much as Dave wanted him back. And the only thing standing in the way of that was…him. Which, Dave acknowledged, could be a real problem.

Although he had every intention of making a sincere apology, and although he knew having other people there, parents and teachers, would help keep his anxieties and temper in check, Dave still worried about his unfailing capacity to always say and do exactly the wrong thing with Kurt. There was just something about being face to face with the other boy that put him on edge. Even without the prospect of being outted, facing down Kurt always felt eerily to Dave like looking his desires directly in the eye, and having them look back.

The other boy symbolized and embodied so many of the things Dave both was and emphatically was _not_. Kurt represented, simultaneously, a promise of pleasure and a prospect of horror. Dave both wanted to know what it was like to be him and, at the same time, he thoroughly reviled the thought of knowing. Kurt was, ultimately, a painfully ambivalent desire for Dave and he found that he was always repulsed and yet utterly compelled by the gorgeous, effeminate boy.

For Dave, looking at Kurt was like looking at himself in some kind of weird funhouse mirror. The image was distorted and yet still terrifyingly recognizable. And Dave had a disturbingly hard time distinguishing his disgust of it from his desire for it. Perhaps even more to the point, he had a disturbingly hard time distinguishing whether the disgust and desire he felt for the image was actually felt for Kurt or for the parts of himself he saw_ in_ Kurt. Was it the other boy he ultimately wanted and hated, or was it himself?

Did he want the other boy and hate himself for that? Or was it that he wanted to be like the other boy, and that's what he hated? Where did the desire end and the repulsion begin? And who was it for, _really_? Whenever Dave looked Kurt in the eye he just always had the terrifying feeling that the lines between himself and the other were merging, that he was falling into this distorted mirror image of himself and the two of them were bleeding irrevocably into one another, never to be comfortably distinct again.

It reminded Dave of that sensation, when you are lying in bed, falling asleep and all of a sudden it feels as if you are falling through a black hole at the speed of light, and some part of you has to jerk violently to make it stop. Whenever he encountered Kurt, that alarming feeling of falling always overtook him and the only way to ever make it stop was to jerk violently. It was involuntary; or at least, that's the way it had always felt to Dave. Like a reflex, something over which he had no control.

After all, the only other possibility was to simply surrender himself to gravity, to the inertia of the fall. But how do you even do that? Dave wondered. How do you just let yourself fall? That was the real question he had needed Santana to answer. And yet it was no surprise she could be of no help. If she could, she would not be perpetrating this fraud with him in the first place.


	44. All About Even

Sitting in his computer chair in the comfort and privacy of his bedroom, Dave found himself staring at an IMDB film entry for a 1950's movie he had never heard of before called _All About Eve_. Reading the short synopsis he now understood Kurt's earlier reference, to Santana being "a Latina Eve Harrington." From what he could gather about the movie's plot, it was an apt comparison and Dave found himself wondering, in passing, if it might be worth watching the movie in full at some point.

_Right, because that wouldn't be gay at all, _a voice in his head exclaimed with disdain. Yet Dave could not entirely take the voice to heart. He was feeling a bit too…detached…at the moment to actually worry about anything. As emotional as this day had indubitably been for him, Dave was actually feeling strangely numb to it all at the moment. He supposed it was because he had not yet come to a definite conclusion about whether the day had turned out really well or horrifying. It somehow seemed to be both at the same time and because of that Dave was unsure as to how he should be feeling.

Objectively, he supposed, things had gone in his favor; he had, at least, reached the overarching goal of getting Kurt to agree to return to McKinley. Santana had been pleased, praising him in a return text to the one he had sent her right after the meeting, as Dave's dad had driven them both home. His father had been pleased as well. Dave knew he had been really embarrassed by the earlier disciplinary incidents with Kurt and he was clearly proud that Dave was now ostensibly trying to make amends.

That had, in fact, made the first part of the meeting much easier for him. Kurt's dad had been quite hostile throughout most of it, but Dave's father had defended him this time, vouching earnestly that his change of heart about Kurt and bullying was genuine. His dad's sincere faith in him had humbled Dave quite a lot, actually, and it had made him want to live up to the image he was projecting, if only to keep up his father's good opinion of him.

So when Burt had brought up the death threat he had issued to Kurt, Dave had seized the opportunity to explain that, in all honesty, his statement had only ever been intended as a figure of speech.

When Burt had then loudly demanded, "How's he supposed to know that?" Mr. Schuester had subsequently joined the conversation as well, gently but firmly intoning, "Your words still matter David."

Managing to remain remarkably calm Dave replied, with a great deal of sincerity, "I know. You have to believe how awful I feel about them. Those ones especially. That's not me, not anymore."

The only part of the statement which had felt at all disingenuous to Dave as he said it was the word "anymore." In point of fact, Dave had always felt at a distinct distance from the part of him that used to torment Kurt, and to suggest that he had ever really been that person had felt profoundly inaccurate to him. But it had needed to be said, if only for the apology to ring true to the other people in the room.

At that point, Mr. Schuester had addressed Kurt, who had remained silent yet ostentatiously skeptical throughout the whole meeting thus far, and asked his opinion on the matter.

"What do you think Kurt?"

Kurt had then stared him down with one of the most pinning gazes Dave had ever endured. As he had waited for the other boy to give some indication of where stood, Dave's heart beat had thrummed loudly in his ears and his stomach had tangled into violent knots. The anticipation of Kurt's first words had been a very short-lived agony. Eventually, however, the other boy spoke.

"I believe he realizes what he did was wrong," Kurt had articulated slowly, and cautiously.

The relief Dave had felt at hearing this had been impossible to describe, for it had indicated, at the very least, that even if Kurt thought he was lying, he was still willing to pretend, if only to return to their school. However, Kurt's father had evacuated that tactic of a lot of its' power by bringing it out in the open.

"You're only saying that because you want to be back in this school so bad."

Then had come the pivotal moment.

"Can Dave and I speak for a moment alone? You can wait right outside in the hall."

When Dave had heard this he found himself strangely elated, in spite of his concurrent anxiety. There was a great deal that could not be said while the adults were present and while some of it Dave would rather have kept unsaid, some of it he had been absolutely dying for an opportunity to say.

Slowly, one by one, the teachers and parents had stood up and walked slowly out of the room, leaving himself and Kurt to face one another alone. Dave had avoided eye contact and waited for Kurt to make the first move;_ he_ was the one that had requested they commune in private, after all.

"What's your angle here?" he had demanded, as soon as he knew they could not be heard.

Dave had not been entirely sure what he was at liberty to disclose to Kurt, in terms of his partnership with Santana. And even though he knew it was unlikely the other boy would take him at face value, he thought he should at least make an attempt.

"I'm just trying to make things right."

In fairness to himself, Dave had not been lying; he did feel a genuine desire to make things right with Kurt. But given all the other ulterior motives at play here, it was unsurprising this did not come off as the whole truth of the matter either.

"David I _know_, remember? And I still haven't told anyone."

"Why?" Dave found himself querying, before he could think better of it. It was a question that had been plaguing him for months now and he found he could not pass up this rare opportunity for an explanation. After all, as he acknowledged to Kurt, "It would have made your life a lot easier."

"I don't believe in denying who you are, but I don't believe in outing either," Kurt had responded, his explanation harboring a certain defensive dignity. "But still you owe me –the _truth_. What is going on here?"

When Kurt had invoked Dave's debt to him, Dave had very quickly conceded that he had no choice but to really be honest. Santana would just have to live with it; in fact, she was the one that had advised him to be honest and say whatever it took to get Kurt back. So without much hesitation, Dave relented.

"It was Santana's idea," he explained, earnestly. "She wants to be Prom Queen, so she figures if we can get you back, we'll get everyone to vote for us."

Kurt had pursed his lips then and raised his rather striking eyebrows dramatically, saying as he did so, "I'm both repulsed and impressed by her Lady MacBethian ways…a Latina Eve Harrington."

When all Dave had done was stare blankly at the latter reference, Kurt had taken on a rather haughty affectation and stated with all the condescension he could muster (which was considerable), "Ok, if you're going to be gay, you simply must know who that is!"

Something about that had irked Dave enough to launch him out of his disposition of atonement. Much as he did not like other people telling him what to do, even more so he did not like other people telling him who he was. Kurt may have acquired quite a lot of leeway with Dave these days, but Dave remained adamant that even Kurt did not have the prerogative of relegating other people into easy categories.

"Look, I don't know for sure I am gay, okay? Stop being such a broken record!"

As the words were coming out of his mouth, Dave rather absently realized that his frustration was not aimed so much at Kurt, specifically, as it was aimed at the larger sexual categorization system he had been invoking. Something about this whole endemic sexual classification practice just did not sit right with Dave at all and, indeed, it never had. What was this need the world had to make people _into_ their sexual desires? Where did it come from, Dave wondered, and why did everybody care so much? As if that was all you ever were was your sexual desire. How could someone even _be_ a desire, anyway, Dave was desperate to know. And furthermore, what did anyone's sexual desire have to do with knowing who Eve Harrington was?

This tacit critique must have made some kind of dent with Kurt, for he had backed off that discourse quite quickly and swiftly moved back into the nitty-gritty of the immediate situation at hand.

"Okay, I have several options here," he had stated slowly, clearly ready set down terms and actually strike a bargain. "I could either tell everyone the truth about you -"

Immediately regretting his slightly harsh outburst, Dave had instantly panicked at this suggestion and quickly interjected, "Dude, I said I'm sorry. You said you wouldn't do that!"

"Hold on," Kurt had replied, waiting for Dave's hysteria to subside before continuing. "Or I could return here and marvel with pride at your new anti-bully movement, which," he had added sincerely, "I fully believe in. And further demand that you and I start a chapter of PFLAG here at William McKinley."

As his blood pressure swiftly dropped, Dave just gazed at Kurt for the second time that afternoon with casual non-comprehension. Kurt was quick to explain.

"Parents Family and Friends of Lesbians and Gays."

As Kurt recited the rather trite acronym fully, Dave could feel his stomach sinking. He knew it would not be nearly as bad as Kurt outing him but it would still be distinctly and emphatically unpleasant.

"You need to be educated David," Kurt had then said to him from atop his rather solemn soap box. "You may not have to come out but you _need_ to be educated."

Dave knew almost instantly that he would take the deal. He needed Kurt to come back, for multiple reasons, and in truth he would have endured a lot worse to ensure the other boy's return. But he still had not liked the idea one whit.

Even now, sitting in the dark and quiet of his bedroom, all alone, Dave was anxiety ridden over how this would play out to the school at large. Still, as he continued to churn the idea slowly over and over in his mind, Dave found one aspect of it surprisingly promising. By making this demand, Kurt had voluntarily required that the two of them spend time with one another. Even if it was just to "educate" him, Kurt had agreed, that afternoon, to spend quite a bit of time in close company with Dave. And that fact struck him as both strange and potentially…delightful.

In a most bizarre turn of events, Kurt was now the one who was perversely forcing himself onto Dave. And although Dave was the first to acknowledge that Kurt was probably doing this largely just to torture and punish him, he still couldn't help but revel in the more pleasurable possibilities it presented. Kurt had actually made spending time with Dave one of his required conditions for coming back to school, and when Dave put it to himself in those terms, his prospects for the near future did not feel quite so grim.

All in life appeared to be evening out, returning to a slightly more sustainable equilibrium. He was back on his father's good side and while perpetuating his faux relationship with Santana was to some degree exhausting, Dave also found it useful, and comforting to know that he was not alone. Starting this club with Kurt was going to be epically awkward as well, but on the upside, he was going to get to spend time with the other boy in the process. And most importantly, of course, Kurt was coming back and he had actually been the one to make it happen.

Looking back on the conclusion of their conversation, Dave could not help but remember the radiant smile Kurt had given his father through the office glass doors, right before they had all shaken hands and parted ways. If Dave subscribed to such corny metaphors, he would have said that it made his heart melt. The image was irrevocably branded into his brain; the other boy had been incandescent with happiness and his smile had warmed Dave's heart, in spite of himself.

Following the meeting today, Dave's life was all about even, the good counter-balancing the bad and making his existence infinitely more stable and tolerable. All was not good, but all was no longer misery and as Dave turned off his computer and moved to get into bed he found himself very cautiously anticipating tomorrow. Granted there were things he would rather not face, but there were also things he was looking forward to, and that made for a nice, if precarious, change.


	45. A Way In

It had been a whirlwind of a day. That was the only way Kurt could think to describe the rollercoaster of events and emotions which had circled around his now imminent and much celebrated return to McKinley. Granted he had gone into the meeting today skeptical but also deeply curious and probably a bit overly willing to forgive. And when Karofsky had come clean to him in their conversation alone, about Santana's master plan and the reason he had so drastically changed his attitude and behavior recently, Kurt had felt comfortable enough with the situation to accept Dave's apology.

Following this full disclosure, Kurt had been able to sincerely assure his father of his safety and his father had relented, clearly still wary but also wanting to see his son happy again. After all the hands had been shaken and pleasantries concluded, Kurt had sent out a mass text to all his McKinley friends informing them with great gusto that he was soon to be back among them. They had responded with wonderfully sweet texts and calls and facebook posts, all of them every bit as excited to have him back as he was to be going back.

He had had to tell Blaine in person, and that had been a bit rough, but the other boy _had_ also had forewarning. Kurt had told him all about the meeting as soon as it had been coordinated and Blaine had always been supportive of the idea of Kurt returning to McKinley. Like the sweetheart he was, what he wanted more than anything was to see his boyfriend happy. He wanted it even more than having his boyfriend around all the time. It still made both of them a little sad to be parting schools but they both knew it was for the best and it wouldn't keep them apart in any other way.

So after his father had dealt with the administration at Dalton they had returned home where Kurt had immediately begun laying out all the new outfits he had long been dying to show off. His whole afternoon and evening had been occupied preparing happily for his big return and in the rosy haze, Kurt had not given Karofsky much of a thought. But lying in bed, alone and quiet in the dark, Kurt found that his dormant thoughts of the other boy were suddenly rising up with ferocity.

He was still a bit disturbed that Santana was ambitious enough to have joined forces with him in the first place; she appeared to have no scruples when it came to getting what she wanted. Of course why she wanted to be Prom Queen so bad was, in itself, a bit of a mystery to Kurt. Her overwhelming superiority complex normally put her above and beyond such tawdry status symbols. He wasn't entirely sure either why Karofsky was playing along with her, but as to that, he at least had a good guess. Odds were she had figured out his secret and had used it to blackmail him into this plot. Typical Santana.

Ultimately, however, Santana's involvement in this was tangential to Kurt's two biggest points of contemplation: Dave's apology and his own stated conditions for returning to McKinley. Kurt still could not work out whether or not he thought the other boy was genuinely remorseful for his actions. He could easily believe Dave was sorry he had done anything that might make Kurt want to out him, if only for his own sake. What he was unsure about was whether Karofsky was also sorry for the way his behavior had made Kurt feel. That, to Kurt's mind, was the real question. Was the other boy's regret completely narcissistic or did it have a genuine altruism as well?

Kurt supposed it wasn't really relevant to his safety. As long as Karofsky kept up the pretence, he was not in any danger, and the motives behind his behavior were more or less moot. But Kurt still wanted to know. He wanted to know if Karofsky _was_ just a douchebag who was only out for himself or, if he was, in fact, what it more and more appeared to Kurt that he was: just a scared, lost little boy. As he posed that question to himself, Kurt thought back on the moment during their conversation when he had proffered the possibility of outting Dave to their gathering. It was not so much what Dave had said in response – "Dude, I said I'm sorry. You promised you wouldn't do that!" – as the _way_ he had said it.

For most of the meeting Dave had been quite guarded, very formal and calm, almost scripted. But there had been nothing faked about the emotion in his voice at that moment. He had been terrified and Kurt had almost felt bad for leveling that threat against him. Karofsky's fear, in that moment, had been all too evident and all too real. And when Kurt read between the lines, this clearly was about more than just Dave's reputation or his social status. The fear the other boy exuded was more primal, more deep-seated than just a concern over other people's opinions of him.

Dave was afraid of himself. That was probably the reason why, when Kurt had casually and rather unthinkingly called him gay while making a joke, he had completely overreacted, shouting at Kurt to "Stop being such a broken record!" That had been the moment Kurt had realized this was about more than just Dave maintaining his image. Which he supposed was what had lead to the demand he had subsequently, and rather unexpectedly, made.

When he had gone into the meeting earlier that afternoon, Kurt had not planned to suggest any such thing as starting a PFLAG chapter, and certainly not with Dave. He originally had expected to simply hear the other boy out, make a determination about how genuine he thought Dave's remorse was, and go from there. But when he had heard the abject terror in Karofsky's tone, Kurt had glimpsed his window of opportunity.

Dave needed help and Kurt had long been pinning for the chance to try and help him. The club had been his way in with Dave. Kurt knew the other boy would never associate with him of his own free will but, because Dave was on the hook with Santana, that had given him an infinitely better bargaining position. He had been allowed to set conditions on his return and Karofsky really had had no leverage in making a counter offer. It had been a take-it-or-leave-it scenario and Dave had clearly understood that. He had not even bothered to protest.

Kurt would not deny that he got a certain level of satisfaction from knowing how uncomfortable this was liable to make the other boy, especially at first. Dave deserved a little bit of discomfort after all he had put Kurt through. But underneath Kurt's desire to make him squirm, and his desire to help Dave merely on a functional level, he also recognized that some part of him was just using this as an excuse to spend time with the other boy.

It was perverse and Kurt was well aware of that fact, but he just could not bring himself to care. He did not care if it was healthy and he did not care if it was smart. He wanted inside the other boy's head; he wanted to pull back the layers that shrouded this curious, enigmatic person and see him for who he really was. He wanted to expose the frighten child he had glimpsed in the principal's office today – hold him, stroke his hair, speak soothing words to him and let him know everything was going to be okay. He wanted to coax to the surface the person he knew loved to dance and could smile with such infectious, earnest pleasure when he did. Kurt wanted to assuage the other boy's fears and encourage his delights.

He wanted to see the other boy happy. It was an inexplicably perverse desire, but Kurt could not deny that he had it in spades. There was no rhyme or reason or logic to it; it was primal and without coherence or pretense. It was like gravity – in the end, impossible to defy. Why bother trying?

These past few months, Kurt had watched Dave trying to deny his desires and he had, subsequently, watched it wreaked havoc on a number of people's lives, including his own. Not to mention the way it was transparently eating Dave from the inside out. If there was one thing Kurt had learned from witnessing this drama unfold, it was how unwise one was to try and suppress such impulses.

So he was giving in. He was going to get inside, whatever it took. And Kurt could not deny, smiling to himself in the dark, he was dizzy with anticipation.


	46. Someone Else's Secrets

"Keep an eye on your brother."

"One step ahead of you."

Finn knew he was not the smartest guy in the world but even before Burt had asked this of him, he had already come to the conclusion that something was seriously off about this whole Dave Karofsky metamorphosis. A few months ago he had been completely ready to believe the other boy could change, and perhaps wanted to, when he had so impulsively joined in with the rest of the team for the Thriller performance during the football championship. It had seemed, at the time, that his change of heart was genuine.

But when Finn had approached him afterwards, and asked of him the same thing Santana was now – apologizing to Kurt, trying to improve the overall atmosphere at William McKinley – Dave had emphatically rejected him, had mocked him, in fact. The memory of it was branded into Finn's brain quite clearly.

"What do you think? We all dance around together and win a football game and suddenly everything is going to change? Glee club is going to be cool and we'll all sing hippie peace songs together every morning?...This is high school! People's memories for good stuff lasts about as long as their facebook status."

"We got a chance to really change things here," Finn had implored him, hating to have his hopes dashed.

"Dude I just won the conference championship. I'm on top. _Why would I want to change things?"_

Why, indeed, Finn had begun asking himself. Dave and Santana had put on a good performance for the Glee club, but Finn knew both of them a little too well to simply take them at face-value, especially Santana. He did not doubt that she wanted Kurt back, but he was also sure that this was not _just_ about Kurt either. Santana never did anything unless there was something directly in it for her and Finn very much doubted she would have gone to this much trouble solely over Kurt. She was up to something else, of that Finn was certain.

And then there was Dave. Why was he going along with Santana? Was it just because he wanted into her pants? Perhaps. Despite her abrasive personality, she was undeniably hot and Finn could understand why some guys would jump through lots of hoops to see her naked. However, that did not really seem like Dave. To Finn's knowledge, Dave had never had a girlfriend, at least not one he had ever seen or heard about. Getting laid did not seem all that important to him. So what was it?

Finn absolutely refused to believe it was Love. Santana was too manipulative and she and Dave were both too much out for themselves to be vulnerable enough to connect to another person in that way. In Finn's estimation, neither of them was capable, at the moment, of the kind of genuine intimacy with another person that real love requires. And they certainly were not capable of creating that kind of intimacy with one another. They were both far too cynical and self-serving.

So what were they up to? Finn doubted it had anything to do with the Glee club as such. Although he was wary of Santana as a general rule, the one thing he believed was genuine in her was her attachment to Glee. She enjoyed it immensely and he was 99.9% sure she would not do anything to sabotage it. Whatever this was about, the Glee club likely had nothing at all to do with it, or if it did, it was only in a round-about sort of way.

Much as he tried, Finn could not really find a connecting thread between Dave and Santana that would explain their newly formed alliance. He was fairly certain they were using each other to achieve some larger end, but he could not imagine what single end they two might have in common. There was absolutely nothing he could think of that the two of them jointly wanted. Which lead him further to consider that they probably had two completely different ends and, as always, they were each just out for themselves.

Santana, Finn knew, wanted to be Prom Queen and he could easily see how Dave would be useful in that pursuit. He did have serious weight in their school and he could get people to vote for two of them out of pure intimidation, if nothing else. The real question was why Santana, all of a sudden, _wanted_ to be Prom Queen in the first place. Quinn had been obsessing about it for months and whenever she said anything about it before, Santana had always just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, clearly trying to tell everyone how stupid she thought the whole thing was. So, again, why the recent 180?

Maybe it was just Santana's inherent competitiveness, or her obsessive need to bring everyone down all the time. Finn would not put it entirely past her to do this out of pure spite, just to take Quinn down a notch. A thought which irked him immensely. Although he admittedly found Quinn's obsession with the Prom Court a little unnecessary and annoying, he also understood that it was important to her and he wanted her to have it because of that, if nothing else. Finn wanted his girlfriend happy, and he did not want Santana getting in the way of that just because she could.

But perhaps more than all of that, he wanted his step-brother to be safe. And that lead to larger of the two mysteries here: Dave Karofsky. Finn knew the history between Dave and Kurt was a volatile one, to say the least. And he also knew, because Kurt had told him as much, that something very significant had gone down between the two of them that was not public knowledge. In fact, as Finn watched through the glass walls of the principal's office, as Kurt and Dave conversed, he could not help but think back on the conversation he had had with Kurt about that very topic a few months ago.

When Finn had asked his brother's permission to bring Dave around to Dalton to apologize, the first and in fact the only thing Kurt had requested was that they two - he and Dave - be allowed to speak in private. Finn remembered thinking at the time that it was an exceedingly odd request. He had been half sure Kurt would refuse outright to talk to Karofsky at all. To have the boy demand they the two of them be allowed to convene alone had been, to his mind, beyond strange.

But Kurt had explained that, "There are some things that happened between the two of us that nobody else knows about, and I think it needs to stay that way for now. So if Karofsky wants to apologize that's fine by me. But you should be aware that he probably isn't going to be able to fully apologize in front of you."

Or, it appeared, anybody else, as Finn stood waiting in the hallway with Burt, Dave's father, their principal and Mr. Schuester while the two boys on the far side of the glass concluded their private exchange. At the time, Finn had honestly not given all that much thought to this mysterious secret that existed between Dave and Kurt. Truth be told, he just had the overwhelming feeling that whatever it was, he was better off not knowing. Whenever his mind started wandering down that path, Finn found himself flooded with an inexplicable yet undeniably strong, stomach-churning anxiety, and he quickly put it out of his thoughts. Something in him truly just did not want to know what had gone down between Kurt and Dave to create this whole weird, drawn-out drama.

However it appeared he did not have the luxury of putting it out of his mind any longer. For it seemed a new chapter in the drama was about to unfold and he was undoubtedly going to be a part of it, whether he wanted to be or not. Finn knew Dave was up to something and he simply would not be convinced that Dave had just been made by Santana to see the error of his ways.

It was, he conceived, possible that Dave felt genuinely sorry about how he had treated Kurt. From some of the looks on Dave's face as he spoke with Kurt, Finn would say it was even probable. However, no matter how earnest his feelings might be, Finn still was certain Dave was not doing this solely out of a heart heavy with regret. Other motives were at play here; and some of them were likely Dave's alone and some of them were probably Santana's and some of them might even be Kurt's for all he really knew.

But of one thing he was certain. This was not just a simple apology on Dave's part, nor was it simple forgiveness on Kurt's. Some larger game was being played here and Finn was desperate to ensure that Kurt was not just a pawn in it. The other boy had been through too much already this year, Finn was not about to see his heart get broken yet again. He simply refused to allow it.

So while he had no plans to openly pry into Dave's or Kurt's life, he was definitely going to keep his eyes and ears wide open. He hoped nothing would come of his suspicions but he knew better than to bet on it. Secrets had a way of getting out into the open and they always had to be contended with, sooner or later. With all the baby drama that had happened between himself and Quinn and Puck last year, Finn knew all too well what it was like to be a victim of someone else's secrets and lies. He vowed to himself that he would do everything in his power to prevent Kurt from having to feel the kind of pain he had had to endure as a result of another's deception. Kurt did not deserve to be a victim of someone else's deceit…nobody did.


	47. Lebanese

**Hello, all. Exciting few weeks, no? :) So here's the story morning glories: originally I had planned to write just one chapter for the last scene of BTW but it has turned out to be worth two, so I'm dividing it up. This is obviously part 1. Hope you enjoy. I'm still in the process of writing part 2, but I imagine I'll have it up within the next four or five days. (I'm having a strangely difficult time with it, and I want to get it just right.)Also, I wanted to warn/inform you now that the next chapter I post, the final one for BTW, will probably be the last one I write for a while. The reason is this: I want to wait until the summer hiatus begins to start writing and posting my chapters for Prom Queen and beyond. When I first began composing this story back in December, the show was on its mid-season winter hiatus, and the main reason I did it was because the complete lack of it in my life was driving me absolutely mad. I am sure many of you can sympathize. So I am trying to save some material to write about while we are all going crazy waiting for season 3 to start. Hope you can forgive me. And have no fear, I will DEFINITELY be continuing this story. (Honestly, I cannot WAIT to write my many planned chapters for Prom Queen!) I just want to leave it until we are all deathly parched and absolutely dying for more, during summer's desert-land of re-runs. I trust you, my lovely and loyal readers, shall not judge me too harshly for this. And now, (finally!) back to our regularly scheduled programming.**

"Why does your shirt say 'Lebanese'?"

"Oh, it was an assignment for Glee club this week," Santana replied dismissively, crossing her arms in front of her body and looking very uncomfortable.

Dave could see she was upset about something and he wanted to ask her what it was, but he didn't know if they were on close enough terms for that, yet. So instead he simply proceeded with a practical question.

"Aren't you supposed to be there right now?"

"Yeah, but I didn't feel like it," she said, shrugging her shoulders and avoiding his gaze.

"Why not?"

"I just…couldn't do it."

When Dave continued to stare at her with an inquiring expression, she huffed, rolled her eyes, uncrossed her arms and offered further exposition.

"It was supposed to say…lesbian."

As Santana relayed this, she grabbed the bottom hem of the shirt with both hands and pulled it away from her body so she could look down and see the writing on it more clearly. For some reason the typo seemed to make her both amused and sad at the same time. Dave could also hear the difficulty with which she had said the word "lesbian" and he could sympathize all too acutely.

"This week's lesson was supposed to be about self-acceptance, and loving who you are and stuff," she continued, overly matter-of-factly, "and we're ending the week with a performance of 'Born This Way' by Lady Gaga."

When Dave just blinked cluelessly at her, indicating his ignorance, Santana crossed her arms again, cocked her right hip out and squinted at him skeptically, asking him with all the attitude she could summon, "Are you _sure_ you're gay?"

"Ugh! I wish people would stop saying stuff like that to me!" Dave responded before he could think better of it.

"What are you talking about?" Santana asked, sounding suddenly intrigued and amused by his unintended admission.

"Never mind," Dave replied. He just realized he had expressed frustration about having his gay credentials questioned and that was a reaction for which he had no explanation whatsoever. One minute he was horrified by anyone thinking him gay, the next he was pissed off because people were doubting it. _What the hell?_

"Aww, did I hurt your bity feelings?" she asked patronizingly, smiling, clearly happy to have the topic moved from herself onto him.

Dave simply rolled his eyes at this. As the days continued to tick by, he was becoming better and better at dealing with Santana's condescension and her teasing. He was now starting to see how she used it as a defense mechanism to keep people at arm's length and to not deal with her own conflicts and issues. Santana used mocking and condescension the way he used to use intimidation and bullying to avoid what he was feeling. And frankly, Dave didn't feel the need to try and disabuse her of that habit. If it made her feel better, he might as well let her taunt him occasionally.

"So what are you still doing here if you're not planning to go to Glee club?"

"Well, I was thinking about staying to watch," she said, shrugging her shoulders and avoiding eye contact with him again. She was back to being transparently uncomfortable. Dave could tell she was really conflicted about whether or not to go and whether or not to participate, a dilemma which he could quite strongly relate to.

In fact, it reminded him uncannily of his participation in half-time performance, during the football championship. He had dropped out of participating because he did not want to be called gay, much as Santana had dropped out because she did not want to brand herself a lesbian. Granted the circumstances were not wholly analogous. The Glee club would likely be supportive of her, whereas the boys who would have called him queer would have done so only to be mean.

But Dave understood the draw of the dance, the joy of being in step with the beat and those around you, and being hesitant to give that up in spite of your fear. He knew exactly how she was feeling right now and he considered that he should give her the opportunity to have to same pleasant surprise he had been afforded when he had unexpectedly joined in on Thriller. She should be there.

"I'll come with you," Dave suddenly found himself offering.

"What?"

"Yeah. We'll sit in the back and watch it together."

"Why?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at him.

"Because apparently I need to know more about Lady Gaga if I'm ever going to get this gay thing right."

Santana narrowed her eyes at him even more, which Dave was surprised to discover was possible, and then, all of a sudden, she burst out laughing. She sounded genuinely amused by his joke and as such, he could not help but smile along with her.

When her laughter finally subsided she conceded, "Alright, let's go." Hooking her arm through his, they then fell into step easily with one another as they walked in unison towards the auditorium.

When they first entered they could see the Glee club huddled together on stage, talking. Rachel appeared to be addressing the group, probably being her usual bossy self about something or other. Dave could not make out what they were saying from the seats Santana had chosen for them at the back left corner of the auditorium. At least, not until Mr. Schuester said, with confident enthusiasm, "Hit it!"

Dave then watched as all the students scattered into the wings except for Kurt, who took his position alone, front and center on stage. Dave became instantly aware of two things at once. First, the other boy's hair was styled differently from the way he usually wore it; it was gelled and messed about, sticking up at all angles and making him look even more attractive than he usually did, something Dave had heretofore been convinced was impossible.

The second thing he noticed was that Kurt was wearing the same jacket he had been when Dave had come on to him so ostentatiously in the school's main hallway, several months ago now. Dave would recognize that coat a mile away. It was branded into his brain. He remembered vividly the texture of it as he had run his finger down the other boy's chest, the way the collar had framed the boy's terrified face.

That memory, combined with the coiffed highlighting of Kurt's already overwhelming sexiness, suddenly had Dave's heart racing and an unwanted ache beginning to throb in his lower abdomen. He was overcome by the distinct premonition that agreeing to watch this with Santana had been a terrible idea after all. But there really was no backing out now.


	48. Connection

**Hey people. Sorry it's taken me SO long to get this chapter up. My muses apparently decided to take an early summer holiday without doing me the courtesy of giving prior notice. (They can be fickle vixens at times) However they appear to be back now and in darn good form. I hope you agree! Enjoy. **

As soon as the music started, Kurt's speaking voice began reverberating with crystal clarity throughout the whole of the theater.

"_It doesn't matter if you love him, or capital H – I – M."_

As he said these lyrics, the boy spelled out the ending pronoun in sign language. Then the music took on a more pulsing beat and he slowly moved to cross his hands above his head.

"_Just put your paws up, 'cause you were born this way baby."_

By the end of the line, two of the glee girls had walked from the wings to stand on either side of Kurt's dramatically accented frame. With him still facing forward and them facing the back, they each grabbed one side of his jacket and pulled. The reveal made Dave's heart skip a beat, his breath catch in his chest and an electric shock of lust tear straight through his groin.

There the words were, bold and black in all caps:

"**LIKES BOYS**."

Dave's breathing became labored as he tried to keep himself from completely unraveling at the sight of this magnetic, beautiful, utterly terrifying spectacle. A feat made more difficult by the fact that he had only enough time to process the two words before the one who wore them started gyrating his hips expertly to the thrum of the music. The dance began proper then.

The vocals were taken over by one of the girls as Kurt was shuffled over to the right. Dave tried to pay attention to the lyrics being sung but all that seemed to grip his consciousness was Kurt's body, positioned slightly off-center on stage, moving expertly to the resounding beat. Though there was nothing explicitly sexual about this sight, it still felt somehow indecent to Dave, in some way decadently erotic.

The boy's gayness was just so unabashed, so gravitationally present and it called to him, that homing beacon, which for so many months had been silent and unresponsive, was pulsing again with resonating immanence. It was as if the pulling apart of the jacket had forcefully flipped the switch and the connection which had long laid dead, dormant, received a jolt of pure electricity…enough to shock a flat-lined heartbeat into tachycardia.

Dave's heart rate, his pulse, thundered in his ears and throbbed in his….an aching longing for so much all at once. He was plunged yet again into that falling sensation, tumbling through a tunnel of desire toward, what exactly? He desired the other boy, on that he was uncomfortably clear; his body was, at that very moment, positively screaming take the other boy's hips in his hands and grind them up against his own. He wanted desperately to run his hands through Kurt's disheveled hair, hear the other boy sigh his name, feel their tongues meet in mutual hunger. But that was not all he wanted.

He also wanted to understand how he could ever adjust to having such desires. Kurt wore it on himself like a badge of honor; Dave had always hidden it away in horror. He was desperate to know how any man could be so…_comfortable_ with "liking boys." How was that possible? He just did not comprehend how a person could accustom themselves to it, and he starkly envied the other boy the easy with which it seem to come to him.

He also just envied the other boy the dance. Dave knew all too well the feeling that Kurt exuded as he moved in time with the music. Your body and your mind perfectly align, and the formation makes room for you while keeping you in place. Dancing , Dave knew, felt like knowing where you _are_ in the world; and it was the thrilling easy of knowing precisely what to do next. When you did it right, dancing felt like the world converging with perfect synchronicity around you specifically. Being so aligned with yourself, so in touch with yourself, it was so liberating.

No conflicts, no parts of you out of sync with other parts. It was perfect presence, perfect wholeness, none of you erased, or closeted or left behind. Dave wanted Kurt, that was true. But what he wanted perhaps even more so, he realized, was to know what it was like to _be_ Kurt, to be able to make yourself present and command other people's acknowledgement with such unadulterated confidence, with such unabashed entitlement.

As the song continued more and more students gathered on stage joining in. They all, Dave absently noticed, had on white T-Shirts with a short phrase printed there. Some students labels were visible from the get-go, others were revealed as the dance moved along. Dave tried to pay attention to these other people performing, read what their various disclosures stated, but it was a pointless endeavor. He seemed only to have eyes for Kurt. He could read the other T-shirts a thousand times over and none of them would stick. And he could try to watch any one of them dance but nothing and no one could command his attention for more than a second or two.

The switch had been flipped and Dave's attentions were once again involuntarily held captive by the one whose body he desired and who, in some ways, he very much desired to embody. He could only be thankful the routine no longer placed Kurt in a prominent position; relegated to the background, Dave found the other boy's magnetic energy was not quite so powerful a force on him. However, no sooner had this thought occurred to him than two of the students in the front moved to the back and Kurt walked forward to the dead center of the stage, removing his coat completely as he did so and throwing it into the empty audience with a flourish.

"_Don't be a drag, just be a queen. Whether you're broke or evergreen..."_

The boys arms gestured dramatically and gracefully in time with the music, making ephemeral shapes in the air as he moved. He was poetry in motion. And so it went.

By this point, Dave simply surrendered himself to the spectacle. What else could he do? And when, a moment later, the dance had Kurt running one of his hands provocatively down his own body, Dave was, for a single mortifying instant, convinced he might actually cum in his pants, there in the auditorium, with Santana sitting right next to him. It was this that caused him to wrap his arms firmly around his own body, hunching in on himself and trying to make himself as small as possible. His desire was just so frighteningly immense, he could not help feeling that it must be flashing some kind of huge neon sign.

Through the haze of his lust, Dave sensed rather absently that the number was drawing to a close. The chorus started repeating over and over again, and the dance became less coordinated, more of a free for all.

_"Don't hide yourself in regret, just love yourself and you're set. I'm on the right track baby, I was born this way."_

Santana had told him the lesson of the week was self-acceptance. As Dave watched his classmates gallop gleefully in a circle on stage, singing over and over again, "I was born this way," he found their courage made him feel weak and small...and strangely judged. They all seemed so able to accept the things about themselves they found embarrassing and shameful, and Dave felt profoundly inadequate that he was not that strong or that brave.

Dave was not like them, this small band of Glee 'losers'. Not because he was not an outcast; he very much was that (though most of the world did not know it yet). No, the difference between Dave and the rest of the misfits he watched skipping around on stage was that _they_ actually had the guts to own their outsider status. They could admit to the things they did not like about themselves and were subsequently able to find support for those things they found shameful or lacking. He couldn't and that's why he was still so alone.

For Dave suddenly realized it was not his sexuality that was keeping him separate from the world. It was the fact that he could not fully admit to it, even amongst the few people who already knew - Santana, Kurt. Despite the fact that, operatively, it was tacitly understood amongst the three of them, Dave still had never actually openly or fully conceded to it. He still acted, even amongst them, as if his sexuality was nothing more than a secret that needed hiding, rather than a disposition unto itself, with its own modes of seeing and experiencing the world.

His sexuality had always felt to Dave like something that could only distance him from others; that was a large part of the reason it scared him so very much. But as he watched Kurt smiling his head off, surrounded by people who clearly loved him in spite of who he liked - and maybe, just maybe, who loved him because of it - Dave was able to see that his sexuality might not always necessarily be an alienating thing. It could perhaps be a basis on which it was possible to connect with others, a very strange yet appealing thought.

But it would always be a gamble and far from a guarantee. And risk was not something Dave dealt with well. He knew the odds were NOT, and probably never would be, in his favor. Still, eventually he was going to have to risk something, or never have a chance at being happy again. Unbidden the picture Santana had painted for him, about his future wife and kids and profession and outting, came to the forefront of Dave's mind. While he knew he was not yet ready to come out to the world at large, he was also, he decided, done denying it with the people who already knew. He needed to start learning to own his feelings if he was ever going to be afforded the possibility of genuinely connecting with another person ever again.

Dave had been very conflicted about a lot of his desires lately, but one thing he knew for sure was that someday he wanted what Kurt had at this very moment. He wanted to be able to walk through the world with the truth written on him and still be embraced by the people he encountered along the way. He wanted genuine connection, desperately. Dave wanted, and wanted, and wanted.


	49. Head Above Water

Kurt had known this was coming. The thing he both wanted and dreaded had finally arrived, not ten minutes prior, and it had been every bit as painful as he had feared it would be. Dave's apology – it had been nothing short of perfect...and indescribably awful because of that.

Kurt knew he should be trying to pay attention to the lecture he was currently sitting through, on conjugating French verbs, but he had already given it up as a lost cause. There was simply no way he was going to be able to concentrate on school work right now, and attempting it was nothing but a waste of time and energy. The idea that he might be able to think about anything _but_ Dave at this moment was just completely unrealistic.

Kurt had strongly suspected this would come eventually, but he had not been prepared for it to come on so quickly and unexpectedly. And he was clearly not the only one whom it had taken by surprise, either. Dave had appeared as unprepared for it as he had been, if not more so. Although the other boy had evidently been harboring this intense remorse for quite some time, Kurt was also sure he had not meant to break down in the middle of a school hallway five minutes before they were both supposed to be in class.

It was his fault, Kurt acknowledged. His heartfelt words of support had unraveled Dave in spite of himself. That had certainly not been his original intention in speaking them; they had simply seemed appropriate at the time. Kurt did not have many opportunities to talk to the other boy openly, and he had not wanted to pass this one up. But irrespective of the intention of his words, they had nonetheless opened up a flood gate that had nearly ended in a complete emotional breakdown.

It had all started with Santana deciding to put herself and Dave on Kurt's "protective detail" leading up to the prom. Kurt was honestly of the opinion that it was all a bit unnecessary, but it seemed to matter to the two of them and if it meant he had to hear a few less taunts between classes, what was the harm? Santana's enthusiasm for the enterprise seemed to be largely predicated on her desire to get sympathy votes for Prom Queen. But Dave quite transparently wanted to protect Kurt for Kurt's sake, and it was the other boy's earnest and fierce defense of him that had prompted Kurt to engage his heart-to-heart with his newly vigilant protector.

"Have you noticed that no one has said 'boo' to me this week?" he had asked, trying to encourage Dave to see that most of the world really did not care as much as he seemed to fear they did.

"It's cause the Bully-Whips are protecting you," Dave had responded, looking very self-satisfied.

"Maybe," Kurt had conceded. "But maybe no one's been harassing me this week because nobody cares."

Dave had shaken his head at this, his expression betraying his obvious belief that Kurt's was being naïve.

"You're dreaming," the other boy had intoned somewhat dismissively.

"Look, I'm not saying that everyone at this school is ready to embrace 'the gay'," Kurt had assured his companion a bit sardonically. He was not a novice, after all. "But maybe at least they've evolved enough to be indifferent."

A pained look of longing had crossed Dave's face at these words. He had obviously _wanted_ to believe Kurt was right, but simultaneously clearly lacked faith that he might actually _be_ right. So Kurt had broken down and said the thing that had been weighing heavy on his mind for the last few months.

"I see how miserable you are, Dave. I could just hate you when you were bullying me but now all I see is your pain."

Indeed, Dave's pain had never been more evident than when Kurt had spoken those words.

"And you don't have to torture yourself over this," Kurt had assured him quietly but with great deal of conviction. He positively hated the thought that Dave was donning an invisible hair-shirt about this. There was absolutely no reason the other boy should be made to feel as ashamed and scared as he clearly was feeling about his sexuality. Kurt knew he needed to do something to counteract the forces that were constantly building up and reinforcing this shame.

Because, in all honesty, he just could not bare the thought that_ they_ might win. Kurt felt like he was now engaged in some epic battle with the world's considerable forces of homophobia, and Dave was the ground they were battling for. He simply would not allow the other boy to be sacrificed to society's ignorant, gay-hating crusades. Dave was _not_ going to be a casualty in this war, literally or metaphorically; Kurt was adamant about this. He was determined to wrest his companion from the torture mill of their homophobic world and bring him to a place of peace about his desires, whatever it took. He was going to get Dave to be okay with this, damnit! He had long ago decided that no other outcome was acceptable.

"I'm not saying you should come out tomorrow," Kurt had assured him then, knowing the other boy was not yet ready for a full public disclosure. He did not want to push Dave too far, too fast. "But maybe soon the moment will arise when you can."

Kurt had expected Dave to just nod then, and bid him good-bye. Perhaps say thank you. What he had _not_ expected was to see tears start welling up in the other boy's eyes and his face begin to bunch up in agony. This sight had alarmed Kurt immensely and he had quickly queried: "What's wrong?"

Barely keeping his emotions under control, Dave had started to breathe heavily and audibly. When he spoke he sounded quite choked up and he stumbled over his words.

"I – I'm so freaking sorry Kurt. I'm just…so sorry for what I did to you."

It was a miracle the boy had managed to keep from having a complete sobbing fit right there in the middle of the hallway. He had been less than an inch away from totally balling his guts out. And Kurt had been stunned to realize that, in spite of all the different ways he had imagined Dave apologizing to him in the past, in his head it had never been nearly as sincere as Dave's real apology. For once, life had done him one_ better_ than his daydreams. Kurt had been totally overwhelmed by how utterly earnest his former-tormentor's contrition was and in that moment all had been instantly and totally forgiven.

"I know," he had told Dave soothingly, wanting nothing more than to absolve the boy and perhaps heal a bit of his pain. "I know."

Kurt had wanted to reach out and touch Karofsky then, to comfort him, but something in him had regretfully resisted the impulse. It felt like it would have been too intimate and the gesture would either have catalyzed the breakdown Dave had worked so hard to keep at bay, or it would have made the other boy slightly defensive in panic that someone else might notice. So Kurt had resisted, in defiance of his instincts, and simply tried to use his voice and his face to assure Dave that he was, in fact, completely absolved.

Dave had seemed surprised by Kurt's ready and sympathetic forgiveness, smiling ever so slightly through his misery and looking like a child who had feared a reprimand and instead received kind understanding. And then, all of a sudden, it was as if Dave was re-donning the mask he wore for the world at large. The change-over in his voice, face and demeanor was so dramatic, so thorough, and so swift, it could not have been more striking than if he had actually put on a literal mask. Kurt was almost in a state of shock at how easily and readily the boy could switch between modes, turn off his genuine self and step into the persona he maintained for the wider world. He clearly had a lot of practice at it.

"Cool, thanks," he had said, all _dude_ once again.

Although he had not meant to betray them, Kurt's feelings of concern over Dave's emotional compartmentalizing must have shown on his face, for Dave had given him a once-over after saying this and subsequently softened his manner somewhat.

"Remember, wait for me here, alright?" he had said. The statement was half command, half plea and Dave was clearly deadly serious about it.

Kurt had just nodded then slightly to the other boy, not able to think up anything to say that would suffice before the bell rang. It moved Kurt that Dave was so earnestly concerned about his well-being, even if he was not actually in nearly as much danger as the other boy seemed to fear. It was a strange thing, Kurt realized, the fact that he and Dave were now so very protective of one another. Not so terribly long ago they had been hostile enemies, of a sort, and now here they were each desperately trying to shield the other from harm. It was odd how fast and immediate the transformation had been.

Yet, as Kurt reflected on this, perhaps it wasn't so odd after all. Ever since Dave had kissed him, Kurt had felt a strong underlying need to aid the other boy in being reconciled to his sexuality. Even when Dave had been tormenting him, Kurt had never entirely lost sight of why the other boy was behaving with such animosity toward him and he had always understood, deep down, that Dave was not really hateful towards anyone but himself.

In fact, in many ways, Kurt had seen this day coming a long ways off. He could recall an afternoon several months past sitting in his parked car on campus, waiting for Karofsky to leave so he could go in to see Rachel, and using that time to imagine just what he would do if and when the other boy expressed genuine remorse and asked for his forgiveness. Kurt had known, even then, that in all likelihood Dave would come around sooner or later, that he _would_ be sorry, and that when that moment arose, the other boy's pain would subsequently and inevitably become, at least partially, his burden to bare. But knowing that had not made baring it any easier.

Kurt was certainly grateful that Karofsky was no longer directing his inner turmoil in violent ways at faulty targets, namely himself. But this change-over brought with it a whole host of new challenges and concerns that Kurt was only just learning how to contend with. The problem was Dave was now looking to Kurt openly for guidance, and Kurt was not exactly feeling entirely up to the task. Although he was, by now, a lot better than Dave at navigating the vast and turbulent waters of homophobia as a gay person, he certainly had not perfected the art; indeed, he was beginning to suspect there was no possibility of ever fully mastering this task. It would always be, to some degree, hit and miss, trial and error, an enterprise dependent on improvisation.

Kurt desperately wished there was something he could tell Dave, some pearl of wisdom he could impart to the other boy, that would make this easier for him. But no such piece of advice existed. There was no sure-fire road map, no fool-proof manual or set of instructions; it was something one had to learn to negotiate, day by day. Being gay was not a simple individual embodiment, Kurt knew, but an on-going social process that always ultimately had to be contended with in the moment. And one learned it simply by doing.

In that sense, Kurt felt a lot like the parent tasked with teaching their child how to swim. At some point you just have to let go, stand back and watch as the child tries desperately to keep their head above water. The overwhelming impulse is to help them, to pull them back to dry land. Yet you have to resist, because you know you won't always be there to buoy them up, and the child needs to learn how to fend for itself. It was a painful process and Kurt hated the thought that he was going to have to watch Dave struggle to keep his head above water. But he also knew that he would not always be there to rescue Dave, either. The boy was going to have to learn, eventually, how to keep himself afloat, and coming out was going to be his first big step in that.

Kurt knew all too well why Dave was so scared. To be sure, it made him slightly sick to his stomach when he thought about how painful this process was going to be for the other boy, especially at first. And there was, indubitably, a part of him that desperately wanted to just let Karofsky cling to him forever. But Kurt knew that if he did that, he would ultimately be doing the other boy nothing but a disservice.

Because hellish as that drowning feeling was, at first, staying in the closet was its own kind of hell, as well. And while keeping your head above water became easier the longer you did it, keeping yourself under wraps and closeted become harder and _more_ hazardous the longer you did it.

It was not hard to see just how much misery Dave was in right now. But it was also understandable to Kurt why the other boy would want to stay there: the hell you know often beats the hell you don't. His task, now, was to convince Dave that that feeling of drowning, after you throw yourself in, quickly subsides; it gets better and you breathe easier sooner than you think. Although it would be really scary and painful at first, coming out was like ripping off a band-aid. The acute pain only lasts a short while and the underlying wound, once exposed, actually does slowly begin to heal.

Kurt knew Dave wasn't ready just yet to be thrown into the deep-end without any kind of safety net. But that moment was on the horizon and it was fast approaching. The other boy had come a long way in a very short space of time and Kurt had faith that he _was, _indeed, strong enough face this full-on. Now the task was helping Dave to see this for himself.


	50. Through the LookingGlass

Although he could see his calculus classroom from where he stood at the end of the hallway, Dave had already determined he was not going to go. He had made a split second decision a few moments prior that he was just too emotional and stressed out to making going to class worth his while. Watching as the throng of students in the hallway thinned, in anticipation of the late-bell, Dave abruptly turned on his heel and bolted back downstairs the way he had come. He had decided he was going to wait out the 50-minute class period in the privacy his car…where he could cry this out to his heart's content.

Trying desperately not to think about what Kurt had said to him as he made his way out of the school's main entrance and towards the parking lot, Dave could feel the pace of his walk increasing almost involuntarily. He could sense that the inevitable emotional breakdown was upon him and now his only hope was to out-run it. Feeling the chunk start to rise in his throat, Dave thrust his hand almost violently into his pocket and retrieved his car keys. Jamming the key into the driver's side lock, Dave opened the door and threw himself unceremoniously into his vehicle.

Something about the sound of the car door slamming shut undid him and his sobs exploded with a violence that surprised even him. It felt to Dave as if there was a desperate, caged animal inside his person, fighting manically to break free. A perfect catch-22: he was terrified of what the beast might do if he let it loose, but keeping it locked in was also gradually killing him. The creature was gnawing at him slowly from the inside out and other people were starting to see it, namely Kurt.

Dave had been caught completely off guard by Kurt's indescribably sweet words of encouragement. Indeed, in many ways it felt as if they had been almost completely in-apropos, given the timing and the situation. It kind of felt to Dave as if Kurt had long been planning to say them and, in his impatience, had jumped the gun in finding the right forum and opportunity.

Not that he begrudged the forgiveness Kurt had espoused. It meant the world to Dave that, in spite of everything, Kurt still wanted to help him and support him. In fact it meant not just the world, but the sun, the moon and the stars too. Dave honestly could not imagine going through this without Kurt's guidance, encouragement and absolution. Or maybe he just really did not want to. But precisely because of that, Kurt now had the power to draw out not his anger or fear, but his sadness.

That little scene in the hallway, not fifteen minutes ago, brought home to Dave why exactly he had been so awful to Kurt for so long. Being mean and hostile to Kurt had prevented Dave from becoming an object of pity in the other boy's eyes. While Dave had been shoving the boy against lockers and issuing him death threats, Kurt had regarded him primarily with fear, wariness and avoidance, all emotions which bespoke Dave's power, his domination of the situation. But once Dave had capitulated to the combined force of Santana's blackmail and his own unresolved guilt, Kurt had stopped looking at him through eyes of apprehension and started looking at him through eyes of pity.

And it was this, Dave realized, that he had been so abjectly terrified of all along. He had known for quite some time that his hostilities toward Kurt were primarily the product of fear, but he had long believed that it was simply the fear of being outted. He now understood, however, that this was not entirely the case. To be sure, it had partially been about that. But it had also to a large degree been about simply avoiding Kurt's very predictable sympathy.

Dave had been afraid of facing up to his own pain, a pain which he knew would be hyperbolically reflected in the other boy's eyes the moment he became at all a sympathetic figure to him. Which was precisely what had happened. Dave had been trying desperately avoid that consciousness of his own inner turmoil; seeing it there, present and magnified in the looking-glass of Kurt's doe-eyed earnest face had felt like having a knife thrust in his gut. Having someone else see your pain, recognize it and reflect it back to you with such intense compassion – it undoes something primal in you.

Dave was completely undone by Kurt, in so many different ways. It used to be he could shore it all up, keep it all in, maintain his own boundaries. But from the moment he had kissed the other boy, that consolidation, that certitude, had fallen irrevocably away. Dave had begun to unravel the moment he had revealed the truth to Kurt, and Kurt had subsequently started the work of slowly picking up the pieces.

Dave's image had been completely shattered during that fateful moment in the locker room, as if he was a mirror that had exploded into a thousand jagged shards. And every shove, every insult, every moment of terror he had inflicted on Kurt was like one sharp, loose piece of himself being used to cut Kurt up. Dave had never wanted to own his pain, he had wanted to deflect it onto somebody else. But that somebody had patiently collected all those shards, those bits of himself, and glued them back together enough to hold the mirror up once more. And it had forced Dave to confront quite clearly the image of his own agony.

Being pitied was bad enough, being that pitiful was actually unbearable. All those bloody broken up bits of himself, it was an image Dave never wanted to face ever again. But it was not as if he could just avoid Kurt or start being mean to him once more. He was going to have to start learning how to face up to the realities of his situation without becoming completely paralyzed by his own pain. After all, it wasn't as if he had the option of simply ditching class every single time Kurt spoke a kind word to him.

The question was, would he ever be able to look at Kurt again without seeing all the terrible things he had done to the other boy, all the pain he had caused, to the other and to himself? At this point, the answer was profoundly unclear; Dave could only hope. Because if not, his only alternatives were to stop looking entirely, or spend the rest of his high school days in tears. And really, Kurt was just too beautiful a sight to have to give up.


	51. Worlds of Pure Imagination

It was the night of the Prom and Dave found himself parked across the street from Santana's house, not quite ready to let her know he was there just yet. He had time to spare anyways. Knowing his mother would make a big fuss over him, Dave had intentionally made for the door of his home quite early, aware his mother would stop him to take three dozen photos and instruct him on the proper way to treat his date and make sure his tie was adjusted just so. Thinking on that, Dave found himself hoping it was the right color to match Santana's dress. It was the only instruction she had given him regarding their Prom date, other than "Don't embarrass me."

"I'm wearing red, so you should wear something that matches."

Dave had done as he was told, partly just because he did not want to incur Santana's considerable wrath, but also partly because he knew this was one of the few nights in his life when he would be allowed to feel normal, and he wanted to make the most of it. Dave had already decided he was not going to try and remain closeted indefinitely; attempting to live such a lie with any longevity would, he knew, be suicidally isolating and depressing. But high school was a temporary situation and a uniquely bad place to be anything but heterosexual. So for the moment, Dave was going to play it straight and see how that went for him. He wanted to be able to enjoy the privilege of being seen as ordinary, if only for a little while.

However, as Dave sat there, staring off into space, he also could not stop himself from wondering what it would be like if he decided he did not care about being ordinary. He could not stop himself from asking, what if he were sitting nervously outside the house of another boy right now, instead of a girl? He could not help picturing the scene, knocking on the front door of a certain person's home, his stomach turning summersaults as he waited for someone, anyone, to open the door.

Kurt's father would answer the knock because there was absolutely no way Kurt would be ready _before_ his date arrived. Dave would stand waiting nervously in the Hummel's hallway, while his date put the finishing touches on his impeccable outfit. Then Kurt would make an entrance as only Kurt could, adorned in something elegant and classy, but also stylishly edgy and just a little bit outrageous. And it would take Dave's breath away.

Then he would hand the other boy a single red rose, his corsage/lapel accent, and Kurt would smile with delight for Dave had the strongest sense that the boy was a total sap for that which was classically romantic. He could picture in his mind quite vividly the image of the other boy grinning with glee as he pinned the flower to his lapel, and then reached out to give him a kiss in thanks. He could see the other boy's eyes sparkling with unadulterated happiness and gratitude as they broke apart…

Other than liking boys, there actually was not a whole lot about Dave that he, or pretty much anyone else, would characterize as "gay." Most of the images and stereotypes people had about gay men were characteristics that he did display or possess in any significant degree. However, besides liking boys, there was one other thing about him that, if anyone knew it, would instantly brand him a total faerie. Dave had a bizarrely strong penchant for totally sappy daydreams. He would often find himself carried off on these excessively girly fantasies, playing out the most unrealistic romantic sequences a person could imagine in his head, scenes replete with roses and candlelight and dramatic entrances and passionate kisses and slow motion embraces and music that swells and peaks with every longing look.

And although it embarrassed him a bit to engage in such fantasies, Dave found he could not resist them either. He supposed it was because the people in those kinds of stories always looked so freaking happy, so absorbed in the one they loved and so oblivious to what the rest of the world might think. Dave acutely envied them and he could not help mentally placing himself into such scenarios with great relish. The idea of that kind of bliss was just so irresistibly seductive. Not to mention in daydreams, you get to have everything your way and the harsh realities of the world can be suspended, completely disregarded.

Dave, in fact, became so lost in his mental musings that he jumped slightly when he heard his phone trill its' text notification. Retrieving the device from the depths of his suit pocket he was unsurprised to see that it was from Santana.

"Where r u?" was all it said.

Dave then glanced at the time displayed in the upper right-hand corner of his screen and realized his fantasizing has made him late. Hitting the reply button, Dave hurriedly typed, "I'm outside your house."

After hitting **send**, Dave just waited. His date had already told him he was not to come to her door, that he should just text her when he arrived and she would meet him in his car. Dave was not entirely sure why, but he suspected it was because she did not want to have to introduce him to her family…which was fine by him. Despite the fact that he did it all the time, Dave did not particularly enjoy lying.

Soon enough he saw Santana's door open and her figure emerge. She made her way purposefully down the porch steps and across the street towards him. Dave was relieved to see that his tie did indeed match her svelte ruby satin dress perfectly. Looking all business, she walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger's side door, gracefully launching herself into the seat next to him.

"Hey," Dave said in greeting, as she buckled her seat belt.

"Hey," she replied, without looking at him.

"You look nice," he said, feeling a strange obligation to stick to convention and complement his date, even though they both knew it was nothing but a charade.

Upon hearing this Santana laughed sardonically and responded, in her predictable sarcasm, "Like you'd know."

"Sorry," Dave replied in kind, as he started the car and put it in drive. "I was just trying to be nice. Here's your corsage, by the way," he said, reaching for the silver box that was perched on the wide arm rest in between them and tossing it into her lap unceremoniously.

From the corner of his eye Dave could see Santana opening the box and delicately removing the flowered wristband that lay therein. She slowly pulled it onto her left hand and then, in a tone of surprising contrition, she said "I'm sorry. I'm just really nervous."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it," Dave found himself responding dismissively, shooting her a furtive, yet genuine smile as he did so.

Meeting his gaze, she smiled back and Dave once again felt a sincere camaraderie with her. As he drove in the direction of their school, it occurred to him that in another world, in another life, he and Santana actually would not have been all that bad together. Oh, the things that might have been…in another world.

Dave pulled into his usual parking space in front of the school and turned off the engine. For a moment both he and Santana just stared at the dark grounds, watching the colorful parade of formally dressed students march toward the belighted gym in the distance.

"So, are you ready?" Santana asked him, her business-like tone just barely betraying her nervousness.

"Yeah. Are you?"

Upon hearing this Santana scoffed good-naturedly and said, with a great deal of sass, "Pssh, I was born ready."

Dave let out a chuckle at her over-the-top bravado as he exited the car. Walking around it, he opened the passenger's door for his 'date' and gave her his hand as she slid out of her seat. Watching her feet delicately perch on the ground, Dave could not help the sudden alternate image that flashed through his mind involuntarily. He envisioned a hand in his own whose nails were perfectly trimmed but colorless, whose skin was a pale white, rather than a rich copper, a hand still delicate and soft, but bigger and unmistakably male. Kurt's hand.

As Santana folded her arm in his and the two of them began their long, slow walk toward the gym, Dave began to wonder how it was going to feel watching Kurt prance around the Prom with another boy as his date. He did not know how he was going to hide the longing he knew he was going to feel, wishing he had Kurt's courage to bring the person he really wanted, holding back his jealousy for the dark-haired boy who actually got to bring the person that Dave would have loved to bring.

He was also quite concerned about how all their classmates were going to treat Kurt this evening. Although everybody already knew the boy was gay – it was kinda hard to miss –Dave was aware there was a big difference between Kurt's day to day public displays of his sexuality, and bringing another boy to the Prom, and dancing and being openly affectionate with him while there. Flaunting it in that manner was much more dangerous and a great deal more likely to provoke overt hostility from their peers.

Dave was praying that would not happen, for more reasons than he could count, but realistically he still knew it was a genuine possibility. And he knew he would probably come to the other boy's defense if he saw anything like that going down, but the problem was that he _wouldn't_ necessarily see something like that going down…at least not in time to stop it. Dave was strong, but he was not omnipotent and there was a great deal of harm that could happen to Kurt even with Dave actively looking out for his safety. Kurt could get physically assaulted, he could get verbally abused, he could get laughed at and pointed to and whispered about. He could end up doused in a bucket of pig's blood.

Indeed, there were all manner of horrible things that could, and quite possibly would, happen to Kurt tonight and Dave was terribly afraid for the other boy because of it. And he was afraid for himself, afraid of how watching something like that would make_ him_ feel…because he, too, would be the target of whatever homophobic torment came Kurt's way tonight, whether their classmates knew it or not.

Dave liked his fairytales, and he did not want his fantasies sullied by truth of how people were liable to actually respond to something like two boys going to the Prom together in real life. Dave wanted desperately to hold on to the fantasy; he wanted to be able to tuck himself into bed tonight with the thought that, if it had been him coming with Kurt to the Prom this evening, people would have just let it be. Dave desperately wanted to believe Kurt was right that their classmates could at least be indifferent to something like that. Because if, by some miracle, they could, it meant that maybe, just maybe, he had a fighting chance to be happy in _this _world and not just in his world of pure imagination.


	52. Slow Dancing

**Just want to take a moment to thank you all for continuing to read and review. It is appreciated! :) Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.**

About half way through the Prom, under instructions from Santana, Dave found himself by the punch bowl serving up glasses for the two of them while she waited impatiently at the table they had staked out as theirs for the evening. As he spooned pink liquid into clear plastic Dixie cups, Dave found himself wondering absently if all girls were as bossy and short-tempered with their boyfriends as Santana was being with him tonight. If they were, he found himself thinking sardonically, perhaps he had actually dodged a bullet in not wanting to sleep with them after all.

The thought made him smile slightly. Aside from having to put up with the controlling demands of his date, Dave found that he was actually having a decent time at the Prom and was in a relatively good mood, all things considered. The dance was about half way over and, as of right now, no one seemed to be paying Kurt and his boyfriend any particular mind…other than Dave himself, of course. Naturally he had tried to remain discreet about it; he did not want to make Kurt uncomfortable or incur the mockery of his faux-girlfriend. But he kept watch out of the corner of his eye, always slightly fearful one of his classmates would make some rude comment or start pointing and snickering.

However his fears remained groundless for the moment, and Dave was praying with all his might that they remained that way. Making his way back to his table, drinks in hand, Dave could see Kurt dancing happily with his companion – he really ought to find out the other boy's name at some point – and not for the first time, he experienced a strong twinge of envy. He envied Kurt for his bravery and he envied the boyfriend for having Kurt, and he envied the both of them for being able to dance with the person they really wanted tonight.

As he thought this, Dave flashed back to a moment on the dance floor a few songs back, when he and Santana had been swaying in each other's arms to a particularly mournful love-song belted out by that Rachel girl… "Jar of Hearts" he thought it was called. Although he had been relatively sure that they passed as a couple, Dave had still felt a bit uncomfortable being in such close physical proximity to his 'girlfriend', and he was reasonably sure she had felt the same. As his eyes had temporarily wandered away from the woman in his arms, Dave had caught Kurt and his date both staring at him. And he could see plain as day, by the looks on their faces, exactly what they were thinking.

Liar. Fraud. Phony. Closet-case. Coward.

He felt their judgment like a white hot light, searing him from fifteen feet away. He could see quite clearly how pathetic he appeared in their eyes, and it made him want to crawl into a corner and hide…or at least avoid eye contact with them. So he had looked the other way and kept dancing, willing the song to be done as soon as possible so he could escape the judgment he could feel being heaped upon him.

Although it _was_ possible, Dave conceded, as he set down the two drinks in his hand in front of Santana, that the judgment he had felt radiating from them had really only been inside his mind. Maybe he was just imagining that's what they thought of him because that's what he thought about himself. Maybe this whole thing was all inside his head.

But somehow that possibility was not wholly comforting to Dave, either. At the end of the day, and at a time like this, he would rather have Kurt spare him a negative thought than no thought at all.

8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8

"It looks like Santana already has Dave well trained," Kurt said to Blaine, as he gazed covertly at the other boy from over his date's shoulder. "Now she's got him acting as her personal waiter."

"Well, after the hell he put you through, I think he deserves whatever she manages to blackmail out of him," Blaine responded, his tone detachedly amused.

"I feel bad for him, ya know?" Kurt said to his companion thoughtfully, as they moved in time with the slow music.

"I hadn't noticed," Blaine responded with affectionate sarcasm.

"He just looks so…trapped."

"Kurt, are we going to spend all night talking about him?" Blaine sighed, just the tiniest hint of frustration evident in his tone.

"Sorry, no, you're right. I shouldn't be worrying about things I have no control over," he intoned decisively, clearly trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

But as is true with most people, Kurt found that his commitment to _not_ thinking about Dave ultimately lead only toward thinking about the other boy more. So much so that he found himself falling silent for lack of anything else to talk about. After about a minute of this increasingly awkward silence, Blaine suddenly and rather resignedly rescinded his request.

"Oh go on, just say whatever it is you're thinking," he said to Kurt, his resignation laced with good humor.

Kurt smiled at his boyfriend a bit guiltily and replied, "I was actually wondering what he would do if I asked him to dance with me."

"Um, probably say no," Blaine offered as if this should have been patently obvious.

"I dunno, actually. He's been so obsessed with being nice to me lately, I wonder if he might actually consider it."

"Do you _want_ to dance with him?" Blaine asked, his tone skeptical, yet harboring also the tiniest tenor of worry.

Kurt's stomach flipped over in the face of this question. He had been so caught up in imagining Dave's many possible reactions to such an offer that he actually had not stopped to consider the meaning of his own desire to make the offer. _Did_ he want to dance with Dave?

Although it took Kurt a good long moment to sift through the many conflicting emotional responses he felt to that question, his ultimate conclusion was yes, he did want to. Partly because he was just interested to see how Dave would react to such an offer - the boy's face was likely to be hilarious - but also partly because he was curious what it would be like to be close to the other boy in that way. He was still quite often plagued by the question of whether Dave's earlier sexual overtures to him were personal ,or whether they had been merely symbolic. Now that the other boy seemed to have moved past his denial, more or less, Kurt thought he might be able to get a much more accurate read on that.

"Yeah, I think I do," Kurt eventually replied, thoughtfully.

"Um, should I be worried?" Blaine then asked, his face indicating he thought Kurt might be coming down with some kind of mental illness.

Kurt laughed a bit nervously and responded, "No. I'm mostly just curious to see the look on his face after I ask him...and to see if he's brave enough to do something like that."

"Uh-huh," Blaine replied, his tone and his face both ostentatiously skeptical.

Kurt could see that his date was not fooled in the least by his half-truth response, which was not particularly surprising. Blaine had long had an uncanny knack for getting to the underlying truth of Kurt's emotions and thoughts. Normally Kurt found this to be an endearing trait, a demonstration of his boyfriend's attentiveness. However, every once in a while he found it a bit burdensome and a pain, and this was fast becoming one of those times.

He supposed he should be flattered that his boyfriend appeared somewhat jealous. And he was. But Kurt also slightly resented the fact that, now that they were romantically involved, he no longer could be totally honest with Blaine about his feelings regarding Dave. Kurt knew his relationship to Blaine was not in the least threatened by Dave; the other boy still had a_ lot_ of coming out to do and a lot of issues to work through before that was even a remotely thinkable possibility.

But if the truth was being told, Kurt's feelings about Dave were not entirely platonic, either. They could not be characterized as overtly sexual or romantic. They were mostly just curious, intrigued. Kurt was very intrigued by the idea of Dave and he was admittedly very interested to know how the other boy really felt about him. He still found the idea that Dave might desire him flattering and compelling, and he could not help pondering it at times like this, even if he knew nothing was likely to come of it. Perhaps especially because he knew nothing was likely to come of it…it felt delightfully dangerous yet wholly safe at the same time.


	53. Dramatic Exits

"_Kurt, Kurt stop!"_

SLAM

The sound of the door slamming shut behind Kurt felt to Dave like a violent smack directly in the face. When the principal has first announced the boy's name as the Prom Queen elect, he, at first, had been sure he'd misheard, convinced that his overly paranoid mind was simply playing tricks on him. Dave had watched horrified, yet incredibly detached, as the whole of the gym had become totally silent, and the spot light had landed on the unsuspecting victim of this cruel prank. For that whole, horrid scene Dave had remained adamant that it was just some kind of waking nightmare his mind had concocted out of unresolved fear, and the real Prom Queen had in fact been one of the nominated girls in the candidate line-up.

But when that door slammed behind Kurt, and his companion, Dave was sharply awakened to the fact that this was not his mind playing tricks on him. Looking around at the large group of still utterly frozen, utterly silent students, Dave felt his face flush hotly and his stomach churn with anxiety. He was waiting to see what everyone else was going to do. For one achingly long moment, Dave simply waited and felt like he could not breathe.

Then, all of sudden, whispers seemed to break out everywhere all at once. Students gathered in small clusters to trade thoughts and snickers about the scene they had all just been party to. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Dave saw the flash of red that was Santana turn swiftly on the dais and hurdle down the side stairs, moving as fast as her restricting dress and heels would allow. A moment later Quinn Fabray stomped off stage in the opposite direction. The crowd at large seemed to take no real heed of either of them, so absorbed they were in their vindictive gossiping.

Dave errantly thought that perhaps he should go after Santana, but he had seen Brittany follow her out, and he was fairly certain his date would rather talk to her best friend right now than talk to him. With his mind slowly recovering from the pure shock of the event, and starting to operate at its' normal capacity once more, his thoughts soon landed on the person who, in fact, most warranted them: Kurt. A huge part of Dave desperately wanted to find out if the other boy was okay; he wanted so badly at that moment to be able to follow the two boys who had sprinted from the hall to make sure that at least Kurt was alright.

He thought about it too, quite seriously. For a very long moment Dave weighed his options and his desires, and he very earnestly considered standing up from the ridiculous faux-throne upon which he now sat, and leaving out the exit through which had disappeared his previously fragile peace of mind. Dave could feel the other boy's pain calling to him, that homing beacon that beckoned, made his heart ache, long to comfort the one who had been wronged and was hurting.

But two things stopped him: mass public opinion, and the boyfriend. Dave genuinely cared about Kurt and he hated, beyond words and beyond measure, seeing the other boy done so terribly wrong. But he also knew that if he went after him, especially in such a public way – he _was_ still sitting on a stage, in a throne, with a crown on his head, after all – there would be questions. There would be whispers about why super-jock, David Karofsky was suddenly so eager to make Kurt feel better when, for so long and not so long ago, he had been the primary one pulling stunts like this. Such an act probably would not get him outted _for sure_, but it might start people a wondering, it might start people slowly putting pieces together. It was a dangerous domino and Dave could not bring himself to tip it, especially since he knew all too well that Kurt already had someone to comfort him.

Dave told himself that, if no one else had run after Kurt, he would have. He was fairly convinced it was true, too. Sitting there, as the gym remained music-less and abuzz with the continued scandalized chitchat of his peers, Dave felt a firm assurance that he would not have allowed Kurt to remain unconsoled. If there had been no one better to take on the task, he _would_ have risked being outted to make sure the other boy was okay.

But there _had_ been someone better, someone who was far more qualified in every way to heal Kurt's wounds and salve his pain. That boy – the boy with the stunning hazel eyes and the well-groomed jet black hair who clearly was the light of Kurt's life. He was surely the one Kurt would prefer to see now, Dave reminded himself sternly. He could not possibly hold a candle to the pretty prep-school boy who, it was obvious, held Kurt's heart in the palm of his hand. What was the point of even trying?

It would probably just piss the other boy off, and understandably so. After all, Dave thought to himself, he had won this stupid popularity contest by lying about and hiding his sexuality, like a coward, and by a pre-existent social status that had been garnered primarily through bulling and intimidation. Dave had behaved horribly and dishonorably, and he, of course, had been grandly rewarded by all their peers for it.

Kurt, on the other hand, had shown nothing but constant courage in the face of profound adversity and had demonstrated unwavering kindness toward Dave even while he was being flagrantly harassed and mistreated at the hands of the very one he was protecting. The boy had behaved like a saint, all things considered, and now, all he had to show for it was being the butt of one of the most mean-spirited pranks Dave had ever seen visited on another person. It was so unfair it made his stomach hurt.

Indeed, as the moments ticked by, Dave felt a kind of manic anger rising steadily within him. As he continued to churn the injustice of the situation over and over in his mind, he felt his nostrils flare and his breathing become labored. He felt so angry, so enraged at the people who had done this to Kurt…and to him. Those people were the reason both he and Kurt were in so much pain right now, though in very different ways.

_They_ were the ones that had made Dave scared enough to violently push his sexual feelings down inside himself. And theywere a big part of the reason he had, subsequently and over years, taken out his anger about it on Kurt. Dave knew he bore a good deal of blame for his actions, and that he was responsible for making amends. But _they_ were responsible, too. If it had not been for people like them, Dave would never have been ashamed in the first place, he would never have felt the need to closet his sexuality from the world and he would _never_ have been so mean and hateful to a person he simply desired and wanted to be close to.

People are responsible for their actions, that is true, but people never act in a vacuum either. Dave had owned his portion of the blame for all the pain that had happened between himself and Kurt. His classmates – they were still just being hateful…and Dave hated them for it. They were in the wrong and still they were going to leave here tonight with the last laugh. And he and Kurt, and even Santana and Kurt's boyfriend, were all going to leave here tonight injured and without recourse. Unfair had never before felt like such an inadequate word.

As that thought occurred to him, Dave noticed a hush falling over the crowd. Looking around for the source of this inexplicable petering of chatter, he noticed Kurt had returned to the gym and was walking slowly, but defiantly toward the dais on which he still sat. Clearly the boy had some kind of public reprisal to the prank in mind, and Dave felt his previous anger temporarily and rapidly dissipate to be replaced instantly by nervous worry. He was terrified whatever Kurt was about to say or do would just invite further ridicule, and Dave honestly did not know if he had the emotional energy to withstand whatever the blowback of this might be.

He wanted to be strong for Kurt, but history had shown Dave that he was not good at maintaining calm under pressure. He had a habit of letting Kurt down, often when the other boy needed him most, and Dave was struck by the most acute premonition, as he watched the principal lower the plastic tiara on to the other boy's head, that history was about to repeat itself.


	54. Tragic Heroes

**Not gonna lie. I haven't been terribly happy with the last few chapters I've posted, and to be honest I am considering re-writing some of them. BUT, I'm proud to say I am _very _happy with this chapter and I'm hoping this ends my slight slump. Would be very happy to hear if you agree...or even if you don't. :)** **So, without further ado, back to our regularly scheduled programming. **

As the door slammed shut behind him, Dave took a few more panicked steps before stopping abruptly in the empty hallway.

_What had he done?_

He had left Kurt standing there, in the middle of the dance floor, abandoned and horribly embarrassed, for the second time that night. That's what he had done.

It felt to Dave like he was having a panic attack, like he couldn't breathe and the walls were closing in on him, as if the very air was compressing him with guilt and fear. The moment spun out in fits and spurts, making the true passing of time wholly unperceivable; milliseconds felt like hours, yet it also seemed like it was getting away from him, like Dave could barely keep up with time's rapid passing. His brain was paralyzed and simultaneously hyperactive. It tossed out varying and contradictory suggestions at an alarming rate and never any means by which he might choose any one action over another.

_Go back in and dance with him! Leave, just go home! Wait until the song ends and say you're sorry! Punch a wall! Crawl into a fetal position on the floor! Go back in and make some grand gesture!_

Dave wanted to do all of these things, and none of these things in particular. As these multiple possibilities circled rapidly through his brain Dave waited for any one of them to linger long enough in his mind to determine how he really felt about it. Slowly, it seemed, he was able to grasp them one at a time and make semi-rational judgments about them.

Curling up in the fetal position sounded, physically, quite appealing; he could hunch in on himself, keep his emotions sealed up in the tightly balled-up bounds of his body and nothing would get in or out ever again. The thought appealed. However, Dave knew someone would find him sooner or later and then he would have to explain himself. Plus, he suffered from a surprisingly strong suspicion that if he surrendered himself to his agonizing anxiety and fear in that way he might never again be able to break free. He might actually just stay locked in that position forever.

Bouncing to the other extreme, Dave then tried to consider going back in and dancing with Kurt, or making some other big gesture – liking grabbing the microphone and castigating their peers for being so mean and hurtful. But somehow Dave did not think that would actually improve the situation. Kurt may appreciate Dave's effort to stand up for him, but somehow he doubted it would actually help make things better…for himself _or_ Kurt; it possibly even had the potential to make things worse.

As he thought this, Dave's mind jumped back to that moment after Kurt had been crowned, when he had defiantly, yet sweetly, declared to the gawking masses, "Eat your heart out Kate Middleton." From the moment Dave had seen Kurt re-enter the gym, to the moment he had issued his light-hearted rejoinder, Dave had been terrified the other boy was only in for more humiliation by consenting to play their game. Yet to his immense shock, after a slightly awkward moment of silence, their classmates had slowly, hesitantly begun to earnestly cheer for the boy they had previously intended to embarrass. His playful retort to their mean-spirited prank had won a lot of their classmates over and Dave had temporarily felt the greatest sense of relief, if only on Kurt's behalf.

However, they had then both been called upon to complete the Prom Court crowning ritual with a ceremonial slow dance. At the time, all Dave had felt was terror and panic at being put on the spot in that way, particularly in light of all the extra layers of meaning such a dance held, for him, for Kurt, and for the school at large. Dave's sexuality might be a secret to most of their classmates, but the way he had treated Kurt in the past certainly was not. Looking back on it, though, even from this tiny bit of temporal and physical distance, it occurred to Dave that that entire scene was the very definition of ironic.

In voting him Prom Queen, Dave's classmates had collectively colluded to mock Kurt for being ostentatiously gay. Yet the means by which they had done this had also resulted in producing the very thing they had been attempting to denigrate – two boys slow dancing together in what was meant to be an implicitly sexual way. They had been attempting to revile gayness and, in that very attempt, they had ushered it into a more prominent being. It sort of reminded Dave of that play they had read in English – Oedipus. The father in that story had tried to prevent a great horror from happening, and it was because of those very actions that the prophesized horror had subsequently come about. And with that connection made, it occurred to Dave as he stood, still paralyzed in the schools hallway, that he was, at this very moment, somehow the unwitting co-star in a modern day Greek tragedy himself…lucky him.

So the question was, what to do next, how to move the plot forward. Or more importantly, how to move the plot forward without making things worse, without summoning up the very heart ache he was so very desperate to avoid. If this really was some kind of grand Greek tragedy, some kind of modern Shakespearean drama – Kurt _had _quite insightfully named Santana Lady MacBeth; who else could that possibly make him? – Dave knew all too well what happened to the fatal heroes of those stories. Whenever they tried to get what they want, it always ended up bring about only pain and their eventual demise. So the question was, what did Dave want?

What he wanted was to make things right with Kurt. What he wanted was to apologize. What he wanted was a second chance to dance with the beautiful boy whom he had pinned to take into his arms all evening and who had quite willingly and even eagerly consented to dance with him. Reflecting back on that moment, Dave remembered the expression of serene expectation that Kurt had worn, as he had waited for Dave to take his hand, encircle his waist and bring their bodies into alignment. That look had been the only thing that had really given Dave pause, made him consider making the gesture Kurt had asked of him. But, as it always seemed to, terror had gotten the better of him in the heat of the moment.

But now, with the cool-headedness of distance, Dave was able to weigh his options with a bit of objectivity, absent the unwieldy pressure of a spot-light and 200 people watching him. And suddenly, figuring out what he wanted was not actually difficult at all. What Dave wanted was a second chance, a do-over. Dave wanted his dance. However, he was overcome by the very strong suspicion that if he tried have what he wanted now, he would just end up fucking it up and making things worse for everyone. He had a very long history of doing just that and there was no reason to think this time would be any different.

Dave was done, he decided, trying to direct the plot, trying to make things go his way. How many times had life already taught him the lesson that wanting something too badly only ends up pushing it farther away from you? As the saying goes, insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Dave decided he was done with the insanity. He was leaving, he was leaving it be, going home and letting this particular plot carry on without him. True tragedies are not inevitable, after all. That was exactly what made them tragedies.

Dave had paid enough attention in class to know that tragedies are tragedies because the characters in them always, in the end, are the unwitting cause of the pain they unintentionally inflict, on themselves and on others. And Dave was tired of playing that role, the pitiable protagonist who is always the source of his own sorrow. He was going home and letting this drama move on without him. Experience, history and 11th grade English had taught him no good was to come of trying to making the world go his way. Best to let it move on without him.

Santana could find another ride home.


	55. The Truth

It was 11:45 pm and Kurt was finally alone. His brain was still whirling over the Prom. Thoughts of the cruel prank his classmates had played on him occupied his mind and made his stomach turn a bit, still. But, he reminded himself, he had managed to stay strong. He had stood up for himself and, by some miracle, his audacious bravery had ultimately been rewarded.

With Blaine's help, just a few minutes after he had run out of the gym humiliated, Kurt had returned, his palms sweaty, his heart pounding like a bass drum in his ears. He had decided, even before re-entering the dance, what he was going to say to all of them, the people who had tried to drive him away and prevent him from having what was rightfully his. However, when Principal Figgans had placed that plastic crown on his head, it had still taken Kurt a few very deep, slow breathes to calm himself enough to ensure his voice would not shake.

And the relief he had felt when his classmates, lead by Rachel, had begun to clap in earnest for him had been almost indescribable. Kurt had been half convinced he would faint just from the sheer release of all that fear. He had become so light-headed, in fact, his vision had begun to spot momentarily. Mercifully he had quickly recovered, a strange feeling of euphoria replacing his prior anxiety.

That was when the principal had announced something which had, heretofore, entirely escaped Kurt's memory – the Prom King and Queen slow dance. From the time his name had first been announced as the Prom Queen elect, to the moment he had accepted the crown his peers had sarcastically awarded him as a punishment, Kurt's mind had been totally occupied trying to figure out the best way to respond, to simply ensure he was not defeated by the mean-spirited joke. Standing up for himself, fighting back, had been his only concern; what happened after that was done had evaded his consciousness entirely.

Glancing over at Dave then, Kurt had experienced a brand new, and wholly different, jolt of nerves. He had felt so very many things, looking over at the boy who had relentlessly harassed him, who had kissed him and who had, just recently, apologized to him with such utter sincerity. The boy who, on the surface, seemed so much stronger than him, and yet was, underneath his callous jock facade, still struggling, and looking to Kurt for guidance and strength.

Kurt had felt so very many things as Dave had risen from his throne and made his way nervously over to the center of the stage. He had looked so adorably unsure of himself, and Kurt was fairly certain he knew exactly what had been going through the other boy's mind. He had not wanted to do the dance, fearful as he was of being outted, yet he had not want to abandon or reject Kurt either, as devoted as he was to making amends to him. Kurt had recognized the dilemma almost instantly, and had easily been able to sympathize. But coming off the high of having his classmates accept him, he had been overly optimistic about Dave's ability to also put his faith in them. And that was partly what had lead him to make his premature suggestion.

"Now's your moment," he had whispered conspiratorially to his royal partner as they had descended the platform stairs toward the dance floor.

"What?" Dave had replied, his nervous fear all too evident.

"Come out, make a difference."

Kurt had turned then, a strange feeling of elation pervading him as he moved into position to have Dave embrace him. He had felt so sure in that moment, as the music began, that the other boy would do it. And Kurt had been amazed, even then, by how much he had desperately ached to feel the other boy's arms around him, holding him close. In fact, looking back on it now, in the quiet privacy of his room, Kurt realized it was precisely his own desires that had blinded him to the fact that Dave simply had not been ready.

Normally he would never, _ever_ have pushed the other boy like that. However, he had, Kurt realized, been totally blinded in that moment by his own craving to be close to Dave. In a strange twist of fate, he had ended up doing to Dave exactly what Dave used to do to him. He had forced himself on the other boy, despite Dave's wishes, because of a closeted yearning he had not known how to appropriately express. And predictably Dave had done exactly what he used to do – flee.

When Dave had first issued his tortured, apologetic, "I can't," and turning swiftly to leave, Kurt had initially been visited by the strongest impulse to run after him. However, he had retained just enough sense to realize that was probably the last thing Dave would want him to do. So, defying every instinct in his body, Kurt had remained standing where he was, the spot-light on him and the music blaring, without a clue as to what he should do next.

Luckily Blaine had come to his rescue. And Kurt had been deeply relieved and grateful. The comfortable safety of his boyfriend's arms around him had been a welcome salve to his embarrassed anxiety. Deliberately shoving all the drama of the evening forcefully from his mind in that moment, Kurt simply surrendered himself blissfully to the infectious beat of the pop song blaring. He knew if he spared Dave another thought, he would surely go after him, and that was not what anyone except he wanted.

He had owed both Dave and Blaine better and he had not wanted to upset either one of them by defying their wishes in favor of his own. So he had let Dave be and spent the rest of the night dancing up a fevered storm with Blaine. And there was no doubt it had been fun, very much so. But Kurt had no illusions about that either; the only reason he had been able to enjoy it is because he had been able to temporarily compartmentalize Dave completely out of his brain.

Having said good bye to the Prom and good night to his boyfriend, Kurt was now alone in the dark, quiet of his bedroom and he could not avoid such thoughts any longer. Even now, he found himself sitting on his bed, his phone in his hand, poised to call Dave and apologize. He wanted to speak to the other boy so badly. He wanted to intone his regret for putting Dave on the spot, for trying to push the other boy too far, too fast, in too public a manner. Kurt was quite sorry for having put his desires above any kind of reasonable expectations for the person he was trying to help.

But that was exactly the problem. Even if Kurt called Dave, what could he possibly say to the other boy that would adequately excuse his behavior? "Sorry for pushing you like that, I just wanted to dance with you so very badly"? Confessing that truth would open up a can of worms neither he nor Dave was even remotely prepared to deal with at this juncture.

Kurt supposed he could just tell Dave some lie; he _could_, in theory, simply tell the other boy he had just gotten too caught up in the moment and had made his inappropriate suggestions on a whim. But something in Kurt simply could not bare to do it. It would make him a hypocrite of the highest order, hiding and lying about his sexual feelings in order to make all their lives easier, and simply because it was embarrassing.

How could he possibly justify any continuing effort to encourage Dave to be open and honest about his sexuality, when he himself was so desperate to hide certain of his own sexual desires, and for much the same reasons? It was not, Kurt knew, that he lacked sexual desire, or even love, for his boyfriend. He definitely desired Blaine, and he was certainly very emotionally attached to the boy who had braved the Prom with him tonight, despite his past and his fears. Kurt's relationship with Blaine was not in any way false, or lacking because he had desires elsewhere. It was simply that, until tonight, Kurt had not wanted to admit to himself that he did, indeed, _have_ desires elsewhere.

It just would have been so much easier to go on pretending he had only platonic concern for his closeted ex-tormentor. Being Dave's friendly councilor was a role that did not up-end his, finally, well-ordered life. Just for a little while, Kurt had wanted things to be easy, to just work out; he wanted there to be no bumps in the road, no kinks in the plan, just smooth sailing. But life seemed perpetually determined to make things more complicated.

Kurt had always known he could not become involved with someone who was closeted. That rule had made it very easy to avoid examining in depth his feelings for Dave, beyond platonic concern. But tonight, with the chance the other boy might come out, Kurt's own closeted feelings had burst forth with surprising intensity and he had not been able to contain his suggestion that the other boy fess up, if only so he could know what it would feel like to be held in his arms. Irrational as it was, Kurt desired to be close to Dave, and that longing had lead him to ask of the other boy what was _not_ his to ask.

And Kurt wanted to apologize to Dave for this. But he refused to lie to other boy, if only on principle, and he did not think he could yet bare to tell the truth either. Which left him with only one real, viable option. Sliding off his bed, Kurt placed his phone firmly on his night stand, and began getting undressed. Until he could be honest with Dave, Kurt had determined he was going to leave this one alone. He could not lie to Dave, but absolutely no one, right now, was ready to deal with the truth of the situation either, including him…perhaps most especially him.


	56. Following Up

"Hey, thanks for ditching me last night."

Dave had expected some remark like this to greet him when he finally managed to work up the nerve to call Santana. He had texted her the previous night to let her know she needed to find an alternate ride home from the Prom and, from the sounds of things, she was understandably still a bit annoyed by this. However, from her relatively benign tone, Dave also quickly ascertained that she was not genuinely pissed off about it either. Had she been truly angry with him, she would have had no qualms about letting him know it in a far less congenial manner than mild sarcasm.

"Sorry. I just couldn't stay."

To Dave's significant surprise her tone softened considerably as she responded, "I understand. So what's up?"

"Well, I um…I wanted to ask if…I just wanted to find out if, um, well -"

"God, would you just spit it out! Preferably while I'm still this side of fifty."

"I wanted to find out…what happened last night…after I left."

"You mean after you left Kurt standing all by himself in the middle of the gym, completely abandoned and embarrassed?"

Even though her tone was not terribly harsh, Santana's question left Dave feeling like he had been soundly socked in the stomach. His guilt about that act had kept him up all night and he knew he could not survive the whole of the weekend without knowing what had happened to Kurt following his unfortunate and panicked exit from the dance. And goodness knows, he could not just call Kurt up and ask him.

Taking his lumps, knowing they were well deserved, Dave provided Santana a straightforward, one-word response: "Yes."

He heard her sigh heavily across the phone then, as if she were weighing exactly what to tell him.

"Kurt's fine. After you left, he only stood there for a couple of seconds. Then Blaine came forward and danced with him in your place."

Dave took it that Blaine was the boyfriend, whose name up until now had eluded him.

"People stared at them for a little bit but then everyone joined in and it wasn't even that big a deal. It all turned out fine…Kurt left smiling."

Her voice was monotone, and matter of fact, but Dave could sense that she understood his concern and was, in her own distant way, doing what she could to assuage his fear and guilt. She seemed to understand, implicitly, how sorry he felt about leaving Kurt there all alone and he was grateful that she also seemed to know what he needed to hear.

"Okay. Good. Well, thanks. I just wanted to make sure, you know, nothing awful happened…I mean, nothing worse than what happened before…you know what I mean," Dave concluded, rather exasperated at his own fumbled articulations.

"Yes, I do know what you mean. And I bored with this conversation now, so unless you have some other terribly urgent question to ask or earth shattering piece of information to share, I'm saying good bye to you."

"Yeah, okay. Well, bye then. And thanks!" Dave added hastily, wanting to make sure his gratitude got through before she disconnected the line.

He expected her to mock him for his sincerity then, or simply hang up the phone without a response. But she remained on the line, silent, as if she were actually undecided about her next move. Dave followed her lead and simply waited, sensing something worthwhile was coming. After a moment, his suspicions were rewarded.

"Kurt really is fine. You don't need to worry about what happened last night. He left the Prom happy…I promise."

A tightness in Dave's chest eased slightly when she said this and he felt his whole body relax significantly as a result. Immensely grateful to have this reassurance, Dave intoned, "Thank you" to his girl-frienemy and then listened as she hung up the phone.

Setting down his own phone, Dave stared blankly at the wall opposite him where he sat on his bed. His mind had been so filled with worry for the past fifteen hours, it felt strangely numbing to have that worry suddenly evaporated, with nothing to take its' place.

It had all worked out just fine, in the end. Dave did not for a second doubt that what Santana had told him about Kurt and the resolution to the Prom was true. She was not one to pull her punches, ever, and Dave knew if she had had any cause to chastise him she would not have hesitated to do so in the most aggressive, harsh manner of which she was capable. The very last thing it would ever occur to Santana to do would be to sugar-coat the truth in order to spare his feelings and as such, Dave knew he could unequivocally trust what she had told him.

Kurt really was okay, which meant that Dave had made the right call in not going back. And while a big part of him felt relieved by this, another part of him felt the strangest twinge of disappointment. In some small, remote corner of his brain, Dave had quietly relished the idea that perhaps only his intervention could have saved Kurt last night. He had subconsciously rather liked the idea that only_ he_ could have made the other boy's night better after the horrible way their classmates had treated him. Although he was genuinely happy to know that Kurt had come out of the experience unscathed, Dave could not lie to himself either – some part of him had still wanted to believe that only he had held the power to make Kurt happy last night.

But it wasn't true. The boyfriend – Blaine – had done what Dave couldn't and no doubt endeared himself further to the one who was already smitten with him, making Dave even more irrelevant than he already was. Go figure. It wasn't hard for Dave to concede that Kurt's happiness was more important than his own. As long as the other boy was okay, that was all that really mattered. Still, it would have been kind of nice if their two happinesses could have been bound up with one another.

But that was just another one of his silly daydreams.


	57. Dave's SoCalled Life

"_Sometimes it seems like we're all living in some kind of prison. And the crime is how much we hate ourselves."_

"What you are watching?" Dave asked his mother, stopping in his tracks to stare wide-eyed at the television screen.

"Oh it's just a re-run of an old canceled show I used to like," she responded dismissively. "It's called, 'My So-Called Life.'"

"Oh," was all Dave could manage to reply, watching as the screen faded from its' montage of 90's clad characters to the black and white credits.

Knowing his paralysis in front of the TV was bizarre, Dave forced his feet to move, to continue taking him toward the stairs and up to his room. He was shaken by how much the casual line of dialogue had affected him. It was like someone had taken everything he had been feeling over the past several months and managed to coalesce it into two simple sentences. The prose were ringing in his head as he ascended the stairs, repeating over and over, as if his mind was desperate never to forget them. He was not exactly sure how, but he had the strongest feeling some answer was buried within them, something that could perhaps liberate him from his own personal prison. 

_The crime is how much we hate ourselves._

Closing his bedroom door forcefully behind him, Dave moved to take up his usual position in his computer chair. More out of habit than genuine interest, Dave checked his email and Twitter and then scrolled casually through the FOX online sports page. Unsurprisingly, nothing of note had happened in the ten minutes since he had left to get a snack downstairs. Summer always did this to him – made him a computer zombie who obsessively checks his news and social networking sites just in the hope of killing time.

Frustrated there was nothing there to keep his interest, Dave reluctantly signed on to Facebook, feeling a familiar disappointment with his own lack of self-control. Going on there always made him feel a combination of guilt, frustration and perverse masochism, yet he often found he could not stop himself either. It was just such an ingrained habit.

He was unsurprised to see the little red flags at the top left corner of his screen, each containing a double digit number. Every summer Dave had a certain tendency to drift away from his friends, but this summer he had been a lot more reclusive than usual, for obvious reasons. His friends, however, were still thoroughly unaware of his reasons, and thus were still constantly sending him messages asking him what he was up to and wanting to hang out.

With all that had happened between himself and Kurt and Santana this past school year, Dave was having a harder and harder time lying to the people around him. The more people who knew, the more he had openly acknowledge the truth to them, the harder it had subsequently become to continue maintaining these falsehoods with everybody else. It seemed that once you started telling the truth about this sort of thing, you never really want to stop.

Dave did not want to lie to his friends, but he also was by no means ready to tell them the truth. And because spending time with them was optional during the summer recess, he had decided to take the easy way out by simply avoiding them. He always did feel a twinge of guilt, however, whenever he saw their messages asking him where he was or if he wanted to come out and play. Dave knew his friends were hurt and confused by his mysterious, unexplained absence and he felt bad for making them feel bad. However, he also knew that actually hanging out with them would make him feel a lot worse and Dave was way too selfish to put other people's lack of misery above his own. At the end of the day, he was usually much more interested in protecting his own feelings over anyone else's.

Yet, perhaps that was not exactly true either, Dave thought to himself as he moved his cursor towards the search box and typed in a named he looked up every single day, often multiple times a day. There was more than one Kurt Hummel in the world of Facebook, but the particular one he was looking for always came up first in the results list. Clicking on the well-worn perpetually purple link, Dave was quickly re-routed to Kurt's page, and the now familiar stab of jealousy knifed at his heart as he looked at the full size version of the other boy's profile picture.

It put Dave in mind of an advertisement for some designer clothing label or perhaps a fancy perfume. The picture had been taken on a bright, sunny day on a grassy knoll from which nothing was visible but some trees in the distance and the endless, rich blue sky. Kurt was sitting upright and cross legged on what looked to be a picnic blanket, staring down with deep affection at the boy with the curly jet-black hair whose head was in his lap. Blaine's lower-body was cut off by the framing of the picture, but his torso and head were clearly visible, resting on Kurt's welcoming left leg. He gazed up at Kurt with the same lovelorn expression Kurt wore for him while stroking his fingers through the boy's wild mane of curls.

It was so fucking sweet Dave was half convinced he would soon get diabetes just from looking at it. And for some horribly masochistic reason he simply could not stop looking at it. The objective beauty of the image was just so magnetic. Everything about it was so painfully ideal, from the way the boys were dressed, to the way they were positioned, to the expressions on their enamored, enthralled faces. The image was otherworldly, impossible if only for its sheer and utter perfection.

And it was extraordinary to Dave the magnitude of things he could see in their faces – happiness and pleasure, contentment and longing, desire and divinity. It was obvious they worshipped one another and Dave had to ask himself, what must that be like? What must it be like to have someone look at you with such adoration and desire, someone for whom you feel something akin to utter devotion? Over the last few months Dave had asked himself that question more times than he could count and still only one answer ever came to him: it must be like heaven.

Ripping his eyes away from the gorgeous image, Dave looked over the newest updates that filled Kurt's wall. Although the two of them were not Facebook friends, Dave could still see almost everything Kurt posted on his profile because the boy had all his privacy settings on the lowest restrictions possible. This was wholly unsurprising to Dave. Kurt was not exactly what anyone would call secretive or reserved. He lived his life like an open book and he did not care who knew it. Most of his updates were about things he had done with Blaine – gone to the movies, had lunch, went for coffee. A few of them were good natured complaints about his father and the rest seemed to be commentary on his own and other people's wardrobe choices.

Although in a lot of ways it hurt to watch Kurt's life unfold in this way, so happily without him, Dave also found it to be something of a relief. He had long ago concluded that Kurt was something akin to an addiction for him, and the other boy's absence made him feel like an addict going through withdrawl. Cyber spying on him helped to mitigate the pain. Thinking on that, Dave's eyes wandered over to the little gray box next to his name labeled "Add Friend."

Dave had clicked on that tab this past summer more times that he could count. And every time the little confirmation box popped up, asking him if he was sure he wanted to send this person a friend request, Dave always reluctantly inevitably pressed the cancel button. He was relatively certain if he ever actually sent the request, Kurt would accept it. His hesitance was not due to a fear of rejection so much as worry about what other people would say and do when they saw that he had friended Kurt.

His other friends would want to know why, and the summer break was not going to last forever. Soon enough he would be surrounded by all of them again in person and explanations would surely be demanded of him. Because of this, on more than one occasion, Dave had strongly considered just deleting his profile entirely. In his more antisocial, cynical moments he often felt as if Facebook was nothing more than just another domain where he was forced to monitor and manage and maintain the many falsehoods that made up _his_ so-called life.

It exhausted him, having to compose and narrate an entire life that wasn't really his. He frequently asked himself what was the point? Yet the answer was rarely long in coming. The point, he reminded himself, was to look normal. For someone his age _not_ to have a Facebook page was extremely suspicious behavior. If he tried to leave entirely, people would want to know why; so far Dave had been unable to think up a satisfactorily plausible explanation, and he could hardly tell them the truth.

Feeling the familiar sense of being totally trapped by the web-like vagaries of his social world, Dave thought once again on the quote he had overheard earlier this afternoon.

_"Sometimes it seems like we're all living in some kind of prison. And the crime is how much we hate ourselves."_

Dave envied Kurt the freedom that clearly came from _not_ hating yourself. Staring at his own page, he wondered what it would be like to live that much honesty. He wondered what it would feel like to change his relationship status from "In a relationship with Santana Lopez" to "Single." He wondered how it would feel to uncheck the box labeled "Interested In Women" and check the box labeled "Interested in Men." He wondered at the feeling of including, along with Football and X-Box, Dancing in his Activities. And he wondered with all his heart and soul what it would be like to write the status update that had been circling through his brain non-stop for the last two months – "Dave Karofsky wishes school would start again because he can't wait to see Kurt."

Dave _was_ living in a prison, a prison of lies kept in place by his own self-hatred. And although he knew he was not brave enough to knock down all the bars at once, in that moment one stood out to him as vulnerable enough to topple. Dragging his cursor slowly over to it, Dave took one deep breath and unchecked the box that indicated "Interested in Women." Now both the boxes under that heading were simply blank.

It wasn't a big thing. In fact, it was likely that absolutely no one would take any heed of it at all. But it was something to him. He might not be brave enough to tell the whole truth yet, but he at least was able to let go of one of his outright lies. Scrolling down to the bottom of the page, Dave firmly clicked on the button marked "Save Changes" and felt a sigh of nervous relief sweep through him as he navigated back to his homepage.

Absolutely nothing 'real' may have changed as a result of this, but it still felt significant to Dave in some small way. It made him feel just the teensiest bit more honest and just a smidge less self-loathing. And indeed, he felt just a little freer for having done it, which was, in itself, something.


	58. Emotional Anesthesia

**Hello peeps. Sorry it's been so long since my last update. That whole school thing was getting in the way of my very important fan activities. But since I'm out for a month, the time has come again to catch up. Hope you like this latest chapter and fear not - more shall be arriving imminently. ****Enjoy!**

It was Friday night and Dave was getting drunk alone in his truck, in the shadows of a teeming parking lot. He wasn't normally in the habit of using alcohol to deal with his problems – mostly because it was just so expensive – but today he had been willing to splurge. He had endured an experience earlier in the day that still had him reeling.

School was starting again in a little over a week and as usual his father had asked him to pick up his registration paperwork and fill out as much of it as he possibly could. Dave had tried to follow his instructions. He had driven to McKinley that afternoon, a slight feeling of trepidation in his stomach growing ever larger the closer he got. And as he had turned into the school's front parking lot, pulling into the nearest available space, Dave had turned off the ignition just in time to succumb to a full-on panic attack.

He had never actually had one before, but having heard them described in a fair amount of detail, Dave was able to diagnose his pounding heart, cold sweat, shaking limbs and the intense tightness in his chest almost immediately. Trying desperately to bring his physical terror under control, Dave closed his eyes and attempted to take deep, calming breathes. All the while, his mind lobbed daunting, unhelpful questions at him.

_What if he saw Santana? Or Az? __**What if he saw Kurt?**_

After not seeing or interacting with any of them for the last three months, the prospect had grown overwhelming. After so much time by himself, alone with his self-reflective thoughts, insulated from the tenuous and strenuous politics of his social milieu, the idea of being tossed back into it again was just intolerable…

Thinking about it in the abstract, before today, Dave had not been all that worried. He had figured he would be able to make up some believable excuse as to his mysterious disappearance over the summer. That he would be able to just shrug it off, no problem and the football guys would just let him back into the fold. And he figured he would eventually be able to forge some kind of positive relationship with Kurt, despite the fact that they had not actually talked since the Prom incident.

But somehow, being back on campus, with the possibility of actually running into one of them quite strong and real, Dave had lost it completely. Managing, eventually, to get his heart rate back to a non-lethal pace, Dave had immediately turned his car back on and had driven out of the school's lot as fast as was legally permissible, without retrieving his paperwork.

Unable to face going home, he simply drove aimlessly for a long time, heading vaguely towards the outskirts of West Lima as he did so. Continuing his glaze-eyed journey to nowhere, trying to sort out his strong, yet very muddled, thoughts and feelings, Dave drove past a large liquor store and his brain suddenly became very clear about one thing – he wanted a drink.

Pulling into their parking lot, Dave had headed in and went straight for the hard liquor. Picking up a mid-priced whiskey, Dave brought it to the counter without the least hesitation and pulled out the fake ID he had managed to procure from one of the seniors on last year's football team. The man behind the counter barely glanced at it before charging Dave for the bottle of alcohol. Dave handed over the cash, took his change and eagerly grabbed his over-the-counter emotional anesthetic. He suddenly could not wait to find an inconspicuous spot to park and get totally wasted.

Once back on the road, Dave was immediately on the lookout for a parking lot with lots of traffic, where someone sitting in their car alone would not appear too suspicious. Most of the restaurants, strip malls and grocery stores he passed were out of the question. And just as he was beginning to lose hope, Dave thought he may have found the place. It was a small, secluded, yet active night club called Scandals. Dave had never heard of it before, but he figured most of the people there would be too drunk and good-humored to worry themselves over the sight of someone drinking alone in his car.

Parking on fringes of the lot, underneath a large tree, Dave unbuckled his seatbelt and hurriedly twisted open the black cap on his full glass bottle of Mapplethorpe Whiskey. Taking a long swig, he felt the drink burn the back of his throat. It was a strangely calming and satisfying sensation, and as Dave continued to sip a bit more slowly, he watched the nightclub become ever more overrun with patrons.

It did not take him long to figure out he had managed, completely by accident, to stumble across what was probably the one and only gay bar within a 100 mile radius of his town. It must of have been some kind of cruel cosmic joke Dave thought to himself as he watched three young, skinny flamboyantly dressed men exit a red Volvo convertible nearby, all of them clearly geared up to have a good time.

Dave felt a strange mixture of jealousy and anger for the men as they made their way to the club entrance and in recourse he simply drank harder from his bottle. Dave remained there drinking for a very long time. Exactly how long he did not know as his phone was deliberately turned off and he did not wear a watch. But he knew it had to be at least 10pm by the time he had conjured up the nerve to go inside.

At first he had entertained the notion merely as a means of using the bathroom, which by now he desperately needed. But as he had gotten more and more drunk, he had actually begun to think he might stay and see what it was like. The idea was still a bit…intimidating, but what the hell, Dave figured. After all, what's the worst that could happen? His drink-addled brain queried, as he exited the car a bit unsteadily.

Approaching the entrance Dave could hear a thundering beat pounding from inside. Smoke laced the front door, gathering from the small collectives of clubbers who stood outside chatting animatedly while they enjoyed their well-deserved cigarettes. Pulling open the surprisingly heavy front door, Dave found himself in a narrow hallway, waiting while the bouncer checked the IDs of boy-girl couple in front of him who were clearly nothing more than friends.

As the bouncer then waved him forward, Dave clumsily retrieved his ID from his wallet and handed it over for the second time that night. The bouncer shinned a flashlight on it and stared quite intently, comparing it with Dave's face. Dave just waited, feeling reasonably unconcerned, mostly due to the high volume of alcohol streaming through his veins. Eventually the bearded man handed the card back, and wordlessly gestured Dave through.

Returning the card to its place in his wallet, Dave walked past the bouncer and into the main bar and dance area. The club was small and crowded. Dave was quite surprised, in fact, by how many people were there. This was still Lima, after all. Gazing around, he located the bathroom on the far side of the club and made his way purposefully over to it. Though he felt fairly awkward finding himself in such a place, the crowdedness gave him quite a bit of cover and no one seemed to pay him any particular mind. And that was more than fine by him.

For what was the first time in his life, Dave had to stand in a significant line just to pee. He really wasn't in Kansas in anymore, he thought to himself as he waited, watching a topless boy with sharp features and jet black hair using the bathroom mirror to reapply his body glitter as he did so. And Dave found himself once again saying a silent prayer of thanks for the drink in his system. There was no way he could have made it through this sober.

Eventually it was his turn and Dave was finally able to relieve himself. Zipping up as soon as he was done, he then pushed past a pair of boys blocking the sinks (one of them was attempting to fix the other's unruly hair) and he washed his hands with lightening speed. He wanted out of that bathroom. It was way too crowded and well-lit. Additionally the large and looming mirror was making it incredibly difficult for Dave to avoid seeing himself. Somehow he knew if he glimpsed his own visage in a place like this, he would likely descend into another panic attack.

Finally managing to push past the never-ending line, Dave returned to the darkened dance and bar area, making his way to the beautiful wall of alcohol. As most of the patrons appeared to preferring dancing to drinking, at least at the moment, Dave was able to get served right away. Having enough sense to realize he should perhaps slow down some if he wanted to get home in one piece, Dave ordered a Bacardi and coke.

Perching on the empty stool next him, he took a few long sips on his drink and then turned to peer out at the jubilant room of colorfully dressed, gyrating bodies. They caroused happily to the resounding beat of the music. Sex hung thick in the air, in their grinding hips and fluttering eye lashes, in their affectionate kisses and flirtatious whispers. And Dave thought to himself, a bit whimsically – If I die tomorrow, I'm glad this is what I chose to spend my last day looking at.

Dave in fact became so absorbed in watching the whole scene, he did not notice the attractive blonde boy in the low cut grey V-neck approaching him.

"That's a smile that would light up a room. Can I buy you a drink?"

It took Dave an inordinately long time to realize the boy was, in fact, talking to him. When it finally did click, he felt his face redden with embarrassment, both from his own obliviousness and from the fact that anyone was showing him the slightest interest whatsoever, let alone someone who looked like a freaking model.

"Oh, uh, huh," Dave sputtered, feeling like an oafish idiot. "Um, no, no thanks. I think I'm fine."

At that moment Dave fervently wished he could simply disappear into a puddle of humiliation on the floor.

"Are you sure?" the boy asked, pouting flirtatiously as he cocked his head to the side and leaned into Dave a bit more.

"Uh yeah. I, um, I appreciate the offer, really. But I just can't…right now," Dave explained, honestly, hoping the other boy would take his full meaning.

The boy looked piercingly into his eyes for a moment and then smiled understandingly. Dave wasn't surprised. He felt like he had the words "First-Timer" written all over his face.

"Okay. Raincheck maybe?"

Dave laughed nervously and then agreed, noncommittally, "Sure."

The guy then turned his attention to the bar tender and ordered a Manhattan, winking at Dave as his drink was being prepared. Dave felt himself blush and smiled what he was sure was the dopiest smile imaginable. He could not even begin to fathom it but this exceedingly beautiful boy genuinely seemed to find him appealing and Dave was as flattered by the attention as he was embarrassed by it, as he was profoundly confused by it.

"See you around," his admirer concluded enticingly, his drink in hand as he walked back onto the dance floor.

Watching the boy walk away, Dave stomach dropped precipitously. It reminded him of that feeling you get when you are in an airplane experiencing a lot of turbulence. Turing back towards the bar Dave closed his eyes and took a few deep breathes. How had this somehow become his life? How on earth was this happening to him? _What the fuck was going on?_


	59. Theres a Word for That

"He not your type or something?" an amused, knowing voice drawled near Dave's right ear.

Turing Dave saw a tall, slightly hefty middle aged man dressed in plain jeans and loose flannel, leaning against the bar right next to him. He looked to be in his early forties and he was there with another man of similar age and build, who was dressed in the same understated fashion and was sporting an impressive beard. Dave gathered they were together and he wondered absently what the two of them were doing here. They didn't really look like they belonged in a place like this.

"Um, no. I mean yeah, I guess he is, I just, I'm not…looking for that right now."

The man paused for a long moment while he considered Dave very intently.

"How old are you kid? Really?"

Dave stared at the man for a moment, trying to gauge what exactly it was that he wanted. It was pretty clear this was not a come-on; the man seemed downright fatherly towards him. But Dave could not imagine why it was he cared about some scared high schooler he did not know from Adam.

"I'm almost eighteen," Dave replied in an undertone.

"And I take it this is your first time in a place like this?"

This was clearly more of a statement than a question, but Dave responded anyway.

"Yeah. Is it that obvious?"

"No, actually. You hide your fear pretty well. But I've seen a few too many guys like you to be fooled."

"Guys like me?" Dave asked, wondering what exactly that meant.

"Guys who don't grow up in a glass closet. Guys who have to fight their way out."

Dave could tell from the man's tone of voice that he was talking about himself, amongst other people.

"I'm Trey," the man then said, holding out his hand. As Dave shook it, he continued, "And this is my partner Gabe."

"I'm Dave," he replied, as he shook the hand of the bearded man.

"So why today?" Trey asked. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah, actually."

Dave paused while the two men continued to look inquiringly at him. He still could not quite fathom why these strangers were so interested in him, but he figured he might as well take advantage of their kindness. After all, how long had he been bemoaning the fact that he had no one to talk to about all of this?

"Um, I went to my school, to pick up my registration paperwork. And I had a total freak out in the parking lot. I couldn't even work up the nerve to go inside. Just the idea of facing another year like that…it was just too much..."

"Another year like what?" Trey asked, still sounding earnestly curious.

"I…" Dave began, feeling like he did not have the words to adequately explain.

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to." Gabe interjected then, misinterpreting Dave's hesitance. "Trey here means well but sometimes he forgets not everything is his business."

"I think you mean _our_ business. You're just as nosy as I am," Trey corrected snarkily, but with good humor.

"No, it's okay. I just, I'm just tying to figure out how to explain what all happened."

"Just take your time. It's okay."

Dave gave the two curious, sympathetic men a once over and then, suddenly, the whole story just poured right out of him, starting with how abysmally he used to bully Kurt, to the kiss, to the death threat and his expulsion, to Kurt's transfer, all the way up through Santana blackmailing him and the events of their Junior Prom. When he finally finished talking, a good fifteen minutes later, Dave looked to his two companions to see what they thought of him acting so cowardly. He was pleasantly relieved to see looks of profound understanding on both their faces.

"You poor baby," Trey said, grabbing the side of Dave's shoulder and squeezing it affectionately. "I'm so sorry."

Dave just nodded, feeling at a loss for words and trying with all his might to keep from getting too emotional. He really did not want to start crying in front of these men who were incredibly sweet, but who were still mostly strangers to him. Silence pervaded for a long moment.

Then out of the blue Gabe asked, "So is he cute?"

It was clear he was talking about Kurt, and Dave and Trey both burst out laughing at the inappropriate sequitur.

"Yes," Dave responded, still chuckling a bit. "He's very good-looking."

"So what does he look like?"

Dave hesitated for a second, but soon gave in.

"He's almost my height, thin but muscular, pale, with these amazing rosy pink cheeks and lips. He's got these unbelievable eyes that change between green and blue. They are so bright and expressive, you just get lost in them. And his nose. He has this perfect upturned nose and his ears, he has elf ears that are pointy and just adorable. And oh my god his voice, it's so high pitched and floaty, even when he speaks it sounds like he's singing. And god, his hair. It's incredibly thick, soft and light brown, I always wanna run my hand through it and…wow I'm really drunk right now."

Trey and Gabe laughed good naturedly at Dave's conclusion, with Gabe commenting, "Sounds like you've got it bad for your pretty little twink."

"Yeah, I guess…wait, my what?" Dave asked, suddenly confused.

"Twink," Gabe repeated. "It means a younger gay man who is petite, pretty, generally fashionable, often a bit flamboyant."

"That's Kurt," Dave responded. "So if he's a twink, what does that make me?" he asked a moment later a bit teasingly, not expecting there to actually be an answer.

He found himself quite dumbfounded then when Trey responded, without hesitation, "You, my friend, are the spitting image of a bear cub."

"Did you just make that up?" Dave asked, looking between the two men to see if they were messing with him.

They both laughed.

"No it's a real thing. If you don't believe me go home and Google 'gay bear.' Just be prepared for some porn hits."

"That's okay, I believe you," Dave replied, feeling strangely delighted to discover there was a whole word devoted to describing guys like him, guys who were gay but who weren't gay like Kurt.

The idea made him feel profoundly included. His heart and mind breathed a palpable sigh of relief – you _belong_ somewhere. One of the many reasons Dave had felt so resistant, previously, to calling himself gay was that the word carried the with it the implication of flamboyancy and effeminacy, of designer clothes and feather boas, of body glitter and swaying hips, and none of that was Dave. He couldn't be straight because after all, at the end of the day, he liked guys; but he couldn't really be gay either because he liked football, and plain baggy clothes, and ACDC.

For the longest time it had felt to Dave like he was some kind of ephemeral specter, floating in limbo, waiting to be summoned by a term that actually affirmed his own self-understood existence. But before tonight he had seriously lacked faith that such a word existed. Before tonight, Dave had been terrified he would have to resign himself to a life of strange non-being, of perpetual misrecognition. He didn't _really_ exist, he was someone without a claim to self-hood.

But miraculously the claim existed. He existed. He was real after all. And his eyes began to water, in spite of his best efforts to stop it.

"Sorry," he said to his conversants, wiping his eyes bashfully. "I just…"

"It's okay," Trey said, smiling at Dave like he understood all too well.

Dave just sighed and smiled back his gratefulness, too immense for words, plastered all over his face. After a moment, Gabe quite gracefully diverted the conversation back to its original trajectory.

"So what are you gonna do, about school?"

"I don't know. I just don't feel like I can face up to it, to all of them."

"Can I give you some advice?" Trey asked.

"Please," Dave pleaded.

"There are two things I would say: the first is you need to do what is going to make life most tolerable for you. If you really feel like you can't manage, then do whatever it is you need to do to make it okay for yourself. But the second thing I would say is, before you make any big decisions, think very hard about what kind of regrets you might have later on down the road. The easy way out often comes with a serious price, and sometimes you don't realize it until years afterwards. You're probably stronger than you think you are."

Dave nodded, taking what the man had to say to him to heart.

"We should probably head out soon," Gabe then said.

"Yeah," Trey replied reluctantly. "I'm a little too old for all of this," he sighed, gesturing toward the carousing crowd dancing.

"It'll be nice when all the college kids go back to school and it gets quiet around here again."

"So it's not normally like this?" Dave asked.

"No. It only gets like this when colleges are out on break and all these guys are back with their parents in Lima for the vacation. When school's in session it's usually pretty dead. Townies like us mostly, and high schoolers like you."

"Yeah, I thought it seemed a bit overrun for small-town Ohio," Dave pondered absently.

"So, will we be seeing you here again?" Trey asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Dave replied, his voice hesitant but sincere.

"That's good to hear," Trey replied. "I think that Calvin Klein model is determined to have his way with you."

Dave laughed very nervously and felt himself blushing.

"Oh, sweetie," Gabe interjected, "You're going to have to get used to stuff like that if you're going to be hanging around here regularly, especially looking like you do."

"I don't understand," Dave replied, earnestly confused.

"Dave, please don't take this the wrong way, but quite honestly you are the wet dream of every gay guy with a bear fetish and believe me, there's plenty of us out there. As soon as you get used to the idea, you're not going to have any trouble getting laid."

For some reason this assertion had the image of Kurt shouting at him "Guess what hamhock, you're not my type!" running through Dave's mind.

"I really had no idea," Dave murmured, a bit embarrassed, under his breath.

The two men laughed.

"You'll learn soon enough," Trey said, smiling at Dave with a great deal of affection. "Take care of yourself and we look forward to seeing you around here again some time."

"Yeah, me too," Dave said, as he gestured farewell to his new…mentors? Friends?

He watched them make their way out, and it occurred to him that that was probably more or less what he would look like give or take about twenty years. It didn't seem like the worst thing in the world. In fact, in some ways, it seemed downright attractive. And Dave smiled quietly to himself. For the first time in a very, very long time, he honestly felt like it might all be okay. He had nearly forgotten what that was like, believing that the future would be worthwhile. He hadn't really felt that way since he was a kid, since before the feelings started.

He still didn't know exactly what he was going to do about school, about Kurt or Santana or Az or the rest of the football team. He was going to have to give it some very serious thought. But Dave felt like he had jumped a very big hurdle tonight and the future seemed pregnant with possibilities, many of them good ones.

For the whole of the last year it had felt to Dave like he was, more or less, fumbling around in the dark, trying to make his way without any sense of direction or light to guide his path. All those horrendous screw-ups, he hadn't had the slightest clue as to what he was doing or how to deal with what was going on inside of him.

Now, however, the road still seemed quite long and bumpy, but at least he had some kind of beacon to light his path. He was no longer that stranded, frightened little bear cub, lost in the wilderness and left to find his way all on his own. Tonight, by some enormous fluke of chance, he had found his way unexpectedly into the fold, the adoptee of two kind strangers who had revealed a way from him to _be_ in this world and still be himself.

He belonged somewhere after all. How about that.

**FULL DISCLOSURE:**

**I feel like I should inform you all that certain resemblance to persons currently living is very intentional. The two original characters in this scene are based on a couple I know, one of whom is an active part of the Pirate/Dave Karofsky online fandom. I felt like they needed to be part of this story.**

**And although all the writing here is certainly my own, I did in fact plagiarize the basic premise of the chapter from a fic written by TheFirstMrsHummel called Loaded for Bear. Which you all should read.**


	60. The Phantom of McKinley High

**For those of you on my update list, newest chapter is 58 - Emotional Anesthesia.**

Today was not Kurt's day. His boyfriend had been officially cast in the role he had still wanted, and had secretly retained a glimmer of hope for getting, and now Rachel had entered the class presidential race on the heels of Brittany bumping her numbers in the polls with that (admittedly awesome) flash mob number. And, to top it all off, Mercedes was now leaving their Glee club as retaliation for being chronically under-appreciated for the last three years. With his dreams of playing the male lead shattered by Blaine and his other friends turning against him and each other everywhere, Kurt was feeling quite frustrated and lonely, and without a ready confidante to whom he could perhaps vent some of these feelings.

After all, who do you talk to about the problems in your life when the people in your life ARE the problems? The answer, Kurt quickly conceded, was actually obvious – an outsider. Someone familiar with the situation but who holds no particular stake in it. Now who did he know who fit that bill?

Once again the answer came careening down on him like a freight train. In fact, it had been staring him in the face all week, though he had deliberately made no mention of it. He worried about drawing attention to it, even though for him it was rapidly becoming a very curious and ostentatious absence. Where the hell was Dave?

The question has started to really plague him on the day of the Maria call-backs. Normally the prospect of a Rachel-Mercedes showdown was by itself sufficient to keep Kurt fully preoccupied with nerves. But when he had waltzed into the auditorium to see not just the Glee club, but also the football guys all sitting there, each one identically hunched over in their baggy letterman jackets, Kurt's heart had jumped violently into his throat. He was sure Dave would be among them. With Blaine right next to him Kurt had walked slowly down the sloping aisle, expecting to catch the other boy's eye at any second. Yet as he moved closer and closer he eventually came to realize Dave was not there. This confused him immensely. Was he no longer on the football team? And if so, why not?

His bewilderment had clearly shown on his face because a few seconds after they had sat down together Blaine had asked him, "Are you okay? You look confused about something."

"I…" Kurt had begun, fully intending to explain the reason for his befuddled expression. But at the last second something had stopped him and he had replied instead by simply shaking his head and saying "No, don't worry about it. It's nothing."

Blaine had given him a long, frankly skeptical look but in the end clearly decided it wasn't worth pursuing. And Kurt still was not sure whether he was ultimately more disappointed by this, or more relieved. On the one hand, he really _wanted_ to talk about Dave with someone. But on the other, talking about Dave with Blaine always felt strangely inappropriate these days.

Which was really unfortunate because that left Kurt with essentially zero other options. Blaine was really the only person in his life who knew the truth about his closeted former tormentor…well, besides Santana, and Kurt had absolutely NO intention of talking to her about this. Unless he felt like outing Dave to someone else, without the other boy's knowledge or consent, he was totally precluded from raising the subject or talking about it with any degree of honesty.

And truth be told, for the last few months, this problem had not bothered him terribly much. What with Blaine transferring to McKinley, his looming NYATA applications, his bid for class president, the West Side Story auditions and his regular Glee activities, Kurt had not really had time to accord the other boy a great deal of thought. But with all of these things were suddenly falling apart all around him, Dave was unsurprisingly catapulted back to the forefront of his mind.

Why was he no longer in football? And if he was, why wasn't he doing West Side Story? Kurt already knew he loved dancing – it was nothing if not the perfect excuse. Finally putting those questions to himself in earnest, Kurt was fairly certain he knew the answer. Dave was deliberately and voluntarily withdrawing from his friends, from the world he used to be a prominent part of it, because he was likely afraid they would not accept him there. He was cutting them off before they had a chance to do the same to him. Which was not in the least a surprising move, but it was still a very sad one.

Indeed, that fact had begun to concern Kurt so much that his desire to win the class presidency had ramped into overdrive. He now had a reason beyond just improving his resume and his college prospects. He desperately needed to show Dave and the other kids like him that they could be out and still be accepted. Which was why it had felt like such a heart-breaking blow to discover Rachel had entered the race as well, _behind his back_! And even when he had tried to explain it to her, she still had not relented.

Kurt did not know who he could count on for support anymore. Blaine had outshined him in the musical auditions and had landed the part he had so desperately coveted, Brittany had resigned as his campaign manager to run her own campaign, Rachel had followed suit a week later, Finn's loyalty toward him was wavering in light of this unexpected move by Rachel, and Mercedes had just quit the New Directions to join their rival show choir at McKinley. Now every single person he was close to was, in some way, working against him. And while Kurt did not believe any of them were malicious in intent, that did not exactly make it easier.

What would have made it easier was if he had someone he could explain all of this to, someone who could be sympathetic without taking divisive sides. Someone who had no personal investment or agenda when it came to all of this. Someone like...Dave. But where the hell was he?

The mystery of it was starting to eat at Kurt, as did the fact that absolutely no one else but him seemed to be taking the slightest notice or interest. There was a Dave shaped hole in the halls of McKinley and Kurt was sure he could not possibly be the only one feeling it. At least he hoped he wasn't the only one feeling it, because if he was, what did that say about all the other people in Dave's life? And what did it say about him?

What did it say about him that he seemed to be the only one lamenting the absence of this person? A person who used to torment him, but who also had worked fiercely to protect him? Someone who had, at times, been horribly mean to him, but who had also issued the most gut-wrench heart-felt apology known to mankind. What it said to Kurt was that he was someone who had been privy to the very worst parts of Dave…and likely, because of that very fact, he was also the only person who had ever really been privy to the best parts of him.

No one at their school, absolutely no one but him, had ever had the pleasure of seeing Dave as he truly was. Dave had been too scared to show anyone but Kurt the best parts of himself, the beautiful person beneath the mask of all his scared posturing and bravado. Kurt was the only one who had every truly seen the person Dave was underneath; no wonder Kurt was also the only one who now seemed to be truly missing him.

Dave Karofsky, the Phantom of McKinley High, who moved through the halls like an invisible ghost and wore a mask for fear only his own ugliness lay beneath. The boy's internal mirror was obviously broken beyond repair, for Kurt knew all too well that bits underneath the mask were by far and away his most beautiful. And it made Kurt sad that he was the only one who had ever been allowed to see any of the wonder of it. And indeed, it made him sadder still that now, once again, Dave appeared to be hiding it from him too.

Why , Kurt wondered, didn't he have the power to make Dave see himself clearly? Why couldn't he make the other boy understand – there was nothing wrong with _HIM._ His only real ugliness resided in that stupid, fake mask and that tragically faulty mirror. Kurt wanted to take a baseball bat to that lying looking-glass that lived in Dave's head and burn that horrid mask he always wore to dust. He wanted to do an incredible violence to all the things that kept Dave from being truly seen. Because those were the only things, Kurt knew, keeping the other boy from being truly loved, and truly missed.


	61. Twitterpated

**Warning: If I haven't yet earned my M rating, consider it now fully justified. **

Dave was lying as flat on his back as the reclined passenger seat would allow and was staring up at the most appealing sight he could imagine. Kurt pink-lipped and flushed, straddling him, breathing heavily from arousal and rubbing furiously up against him in the dark. They were clothed, mostly, but could feel each other's strong erections through their pants as their mouths mated with hungered ferocity. Dave had untucked Kurt's button down and squeezed his hands under the waistband of the other boy's close fitting jeans. The soft skin of Kurt's perfect ass rubbed against Dave's fingers and palms as Kurt rhythmically bucked their pelvises together.

Dave was sweating, completely out of breath and so turned-on he was in pain. However he continued to try with all his might to keep his body under some semblance of control. He did not want to cum in his pants; at the very least, he did not want to be first to do so. And although this make-out session felt like torture, Dave also did not want it end, ever. This was torture in paradise.

One of Kurt's hands, which had been wound around Dave's neck and through his hair, was suddenly making its' way slowly down his chest towards his abdomen. Over the consistent throb of his arousal Dave felt a sharp, sudden jolt of lust wrack him as Kurt's intention became clear. Dave heard his belt clack softly while the other boy's butterfly light touch grazed his stomach and he expertly undid the clasp. A second later his button was loose and his zipper had been pulled forcefully down. The sound seemed to echo dramatically through the confines of the steamy vehicle.

And just as Kurt reached under the elastic band of his boxers Dave broke off their marathon kiss and extricated one of his hands to grab Kurt's writs and plead softly, "Don't!"

"But why?" Kurt asked, his tone husky and teasing as he ran one finger along the underside of Dave's dick.

"Because," Dave returned, his voice cracking with barely controlled pleasure. "Because I'll cum," he whispered desperately, while his hips made a small involuntary jerk upward.

Kurt smiled down at Dave, a sexual thrill sparkling in his eyes as he mewed seductively in his ear, "Yeah that's kind of the point." He then bit down softly on the ear and ran his hot tongue over the delicate flesh of the lobe.

The sound Dave made in response to this was both graphic and without specificity. But it said what he felt all too clearly and he subsequently let his hand release Kurt's wrist. His body was issuing loud and forceful orders that the other boy be allowed to continue and Dave was past the point of caring about dignity.

The instant he was given the liberty, Kurt grabbed Dave's cock full-on. Dave's hips bucked in response and Kurt giggled audibly at this emphatic, involuntary consequence. He clearly liked the power he had over Dave's body. And Dave liked how much Kurt liked it. The interplay was like perfectly symmetrical spirals of desire, dancing frantically with one another.

Kurt's hand was certainly frantic as he stroked it up and down the length of his object's raging erection. All the gorgeous nerve endings there sent sparks of intense pleasure reeling through Dave's body and a single feeling began pulsing through his entire being in perfect, synchratic conjunction with his pounding, raging pulse: more, _more, MORE!_

Kurt was kissing him again, rocking their bodies together as he jerked Dave off at a manic pace. They could both feel that he was incredibly close and as Dave approached the precipice he began making supplicating, frustrated noises while he erratically grabbed at any part of Kurt's body he could manage to get a fist-full of. That was when Kurt began talking.

"Cum for me," he whispered, his tone somewhere between an order and a plea. "I want you to cum all of yourself so I can lick it off you like the hungry slut I am."

Hearing Kurt call himself a 'slut' in that high pitched, melodic voice was Dave's final undoing. He then did as the other boy commanded. He came. He came so violently that he jolted himself awake.

The first thing Dave noted, as his body and mind readjusted to the dark, lonely reality of his bedroom, was that he was still breathing quite hard for someone who had been doing nothing more than dreaming. Dave allowed himself to catch his breath and bask in the glow of his solitary nocturnal orgasm for as long as the pleasure outweighed the discomfort. Eventually, however, his wet-spot needed taking care of.

He was used to this by now and managing it had become routine for him by this point. What was different about this instance was not the consequences of the dream, it was the stunning vividness of it. It had just felt so fucking _real_. So much more real than it usually did.

The details in it had been, in many ways, exact replicas of the previous night: Kurt in that grey, long sleeved button down shirt with the open black vest, and the tight skinny jeans. His hair styled upward rather than parted and combed over, as Dave had remembered he used to wear it. His own belt and wardrobe from last night, sans his denim over-shirt. Even the car had been his father's SUV. This excessive realism – _that _was new. It was also, Dave readily conceded, more than a little disturbing.

Having changed his boxers and pajama bottoms, Dave slid back into bed in the still darkness of his room (it wasn't even 6 am yet) and reached for the large glass of water he had left on his bedside table the night before. Predictably his head felt a little worse for wear from the drinking and Dave had been hung-over enough times already to know what he needed to mitigate the symptoms as much as possible. Chugging more than half the glass in a single sip, Dave suddenly felt very awake.

Returning his thoughts to the dream, he supposed it was not exactly surprising something like this would happen after running into Kurt without seeing him for months on end. So much of Dave's sexual psyche had developed and contoured around the other boy specifically. Having not had any contact with him for such a long period of time, his fantasies of Kurt had become, as time progressed, far less vivid.

Eventually he had even started having dreams and desires for just generic guys. Granted they were guys who often had Kurt's general build, sense of style, mannerisms, similar features to him and such. But still, his infatuation for Kurt, in particular, had actually begun to wane. He had even, of late, developed a minor inclination towards a boy in his advanced calculus class, whom he had a vague suspicion about.

But god, having Kurt thrust upon him like that last night! Just out of the blue, there he had been, looking even more damn attractive than Dave remembered. Although he conceded Kurt's dramatic increase in good-looks may have been an illusion brought on by the alcohol, the adrenaline, the bar's low lighting and Dave's general giddiness over the other boy's unexpected, but serendipitous presence.

He had seen Kurt when the boy had first arrived with his boyfriend. Scandals was a place where the same people tended to come over and over again, so new people stood out; especially two boys as conventionally attractive as Kurt and Blaine. At first Dave had stared at them without remittance from the far side of the pool table where he had been enjoying a friendly game with Trey and Gabe.

He had watch the two familiar boys meet up with a third boy whom Dave knew by sight but had never himself formally met. He was a semi-regular at Scandals, and by all accounts something of a manipulative whore. Not that Dave had bothered to care previously. As long as the tall skinny boy had had nothing to do with him, personally, what did he care? But now that he knew the other boy had some connection to Blaine and Kurt, and some pretty blatant designs on Blaine, he had started to care immensely.

When the boys had first arrived at the club, Dave had been undecided as to whether he would make his presence known. He had wanted to say hello to Kurt quite badly but Kurt had been on a date and Dave had also been very unclear as to how welcome a social initiation would be. Although he had been sure the other boy harbored him no ill-will by this point, Dave was still unclear as to how comfortable Kurt was just being casually sociable with him.

At first he had let things be, preferring to observe the triad's interactions from afar. It did not take long at all to sort out what the dynamic was. The skinny boy wanted Blaine, Kurt was jealous but did not want to appear as such and Blaine…well, what _he_ wanted was still an open question to Dave. He certainly still seemed quite affectionate toward Kurt, and it was obvious they were still officially together, but he had not shied away from the attentions of the other boy either. And Dave found that extremely, well, _interesting_ to say the least.

Taking another long drag on his water, it occurred to Dave that it was rather silly to be speculating about distant teenaged loved triangles which he had no hope of infiltrating of influencing. It made him feel a bit like a twelve year old girl. He had promised himself when he decided to transfer schools that he would let go of the idea of being with Kurt. It seemed pointless and unhealthy to pine after someone who was so very unavailable, for so very many reasons.

But fuck if it had not been wonderful to talk to him, talk openly, just like normal people did. Without school and all the image-maintenance games, to have even a moment of down-to-earth honesty, it felt like such a precious gift. Dave only wished it could have lasted for more than a minute or so.

But when Kurt had given him that look and jumped off his bar stool, Dave had understood. The skinny boy had been getting more and more brazen as the night had progressed, and Kurt would have been foolish not to try and close him down. Assuming, of course, he wanted to keep his boyfriend, which he obviously did. It made Dave feel bad for hoping, hoping that the skinny boy might succeed after all.

Though he wished it were otherwise, though he wished he could just be happy that Kurt was happy, Dave still harbored the most horrible hope that Blaine would break Kurt's heart, just so he might have the opportunity to piece it back together. It was rather fanciful notion and not one Dave believed he would ever actually have the chance to follow through on. And he felt bad for even wanting it. But, he conceded, even in the sober light of day, he still wanted it just the same.

Guilt over desire – it was not a new feeling for him. But at least he was no longer agonizing over his desire for sex. Now it was, god help him, LOVE. He still wanted Kurt to love him, even after all this time. What a pathetic sap he was, Dave thought to himself. And yet, as he turned off his suddenly blaring alarm clock and rose from his bed to actually start the day, he also could not help but smile.

His memories of the last night were _good_. They were really good. Finally, he had managed to leave an encounter with Kurt without some kind of massive regret about it hanging around his neck. Looking back on their short but heart-felt exchange, Dave felt downright warm and fuzzy. It was sickening in the best way possible. And there was really only one word that could capture such a feeling, and it came from the mind of Walt fucking Disney of all people. Twitterpated. Dave was twitterpated.

He was love sick; but it was heart-ache like stretching a sore muscle. The pain hurt well…for once.


	62. update

**Hey peeps. I know it's been a**_** really**_** long time since I've updated. Wouldn't be surprised if you've given up on this fic entirely. I understand. But I've had some free time recently and I've been inspired to start writing again. **

**However, this is the thing: I haven't decided how I'm going to deal with Glee's most recent Dave episodes, "Heart" and "On My Way." I want to write a good end for Dave (and Kurt), but I don't know how much of this cannon I want to honor as I have extremely mixed feelings regarding how they've (seemingly) concluded this storyline. So for now, I've decided to write a multi-chapter prequel to this story called "The Times Before." Unfortunately I can't link to it here (damn you FFN!) but if you just check all my stories, you'll find it. **

**Just FYI, I**_** am**_** hoping to write a real conclusion to this story. I'm just undecided as yet how to do it. And I really want to do it justice, especially since you all have enjoyed my interpretation so much. **


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